For The Love Of A Highland Thistle
by Elin Eriksen
Summary: What if Mr Darcy fell in love with a fiery redheaded Highland beauty? Neighbour and member of a rivalling clan to his old school friend Mr Charles MacBingley. Set 1809, two years prior to canon.
1. Chapter 1

**For the Love of a Highland Thistle**

Blurb: What if Darcy fell in love with a fiery, red-haired beauty from the Scottish Highlands, a moment after he had insulted her? A neighbour and rivalling clan of his school friend Charles MacBingley. Set in 1809, two years prior to canon.

Chapter 1 MacBennet versus MacBingley. 2

Chapter 2 Thistle Fury. 7

Chapter 3 Grovelling. 18

Chapter 4 The Proposal. 28

Chapter 5 Elizabeth's Adventure. 35

Chapter 6 London days. 48

Chapter 7 Mutual Surrender. 62

Chapter 8 Runaway Bride. 73

Chapter 9 Coldstream Bridge Toll Booth 88

Chapter 10 Eilean Bennet Castle. 101

Chapter 11 Epilogue 117

**Note:** I really had a blast writing this story, I swear I smirked even while editing... (121 pages.)

This is a regency story inspired by Pride and Prejudice, it is too far off canon to call it a variation. For instance, Caroline and Louisa have been substituted with Campbell and Lochlan while I am a little tired of Wickham, he will not make an appearance...

I need to warn you that this Elizabeth is red-haired and she has freckles. I asked a couple of groups on FB and GR if they would mind and the amount of nays were overwhelming. It did not deter me though because this Elizabeth is a Highland beauty with fiery red hair, freckles and somewhat of a temperament...

**Disclaimer: **I am not Jane Austen, English nor an author.

**Chapter 1 MacBennet versus MacBingley**

"You simply must go over there to make amends, Thomas!"

"Why should I be the one to patch up your quarrel with your cousin, Fiona?"

"Because Maggie has two eligible bachelors in her house. In case you had not noticed, we have five unmarried daughters and they are not getting any younger. Jane is twenty, Elizabeth is eight and ten, Mary is seven and ten, Kitty is five and ten and Lydia is four and ten."

"I _am _aware of the age of my own offspring, Fiona. In my mind, they are not old enough to marry."

Fiona MacBennet sighed exasperated. How could she make her husband understand that it was important to secure the future of the MacBennet clan?

"They should have been betrothed from they were in their swaddles. I blame you for not forming any alliances of that kind. People will think we have some dreadful illness, deformity or curse hanging over our keep since none are taken. It is not like lairds with their own land are growing on trees you know..."

The quarrel that had been repeated since their fifth daughter had been born was unfolding in a known pattern.

"I would like my daughters to have the chance to marry for love," Thomas bravely countered. Earning him a scoff and an impressive eye-rolling from his wife.

"What has love got to do with it? I did not love you when we were married, look how well that turned out." Thomas could have made many contributions to that statement but Fiona was not finished. "We need no laird for Jane, she will have this land. I should just send for Collinson, he has expressed an interest in Jane."

"You will do no such thing! No Lowlander Scot will wed any of _my_ daughters."

Fiona smirked knowingly.

"Tell me you haven't?"

"I have, he will be here in a few weeks. William Collinson is not so bad. He is an educated, fine young man. He currently holds the living of a noble patroness in Kent."

"England?" MacBennet, laird of the MacBennet land, shuddered visibly.

"Aye, Kent is in England, Thomas." She sighed as Thomas was the ignorant one.

"I especially forbade you to contact that branch of the family after the umbrage his father took to our marriage or have you forgotten?"

The late Mr Collinson had made his sentiments known when the Laird had married a blacksmith's daughter. Not that he would have been pleased with any marriage of his distant cousin since he had been next in line to inherit the old castle and the land entailed.

It had been a sore spot for Thomas as he had fallen head over heels in love with the beautiful maiden and no laird's daughter could usurp her place in his heart. Neither had the age gap been a deterrent. He sort of regretted that now, he was getting old and weary while his wife still had the spunk to tire him out.

"Aye, but it was ages ago and we need husbands for our daughters. Husbands, as in five, Thomas." Fiona jabbed five wriggling finger in his face before she continued. "Collins, he has changed his name since he got ordained, he might do for Jane but the rest needs lairds with land of their own. I suggest a midsummer feast at our keep."

"You have already sent the invites, have you not?"

His wife smiled broadly.

"I have, you know me so well, Thomas." She even had the audacity to kiss him on the cheek before she sauntered away to embark on her chores for the day, mainly eating, complaining and ordering his harrowed servants around.

Thomas sighed and reverted back to his books. Fiona would do as she liked, he had learned a long time ago that it was futile to protest when she had gotten an idea in her pretty but empty head. He still loved her, more now than when the golden-locked maiden had danced into his life, twenty-odd years ago. Thomas sighed with a forgotten book in his lap as his mind wandered down memory lane.

Lizzy and Jane avoided insistently to look at each other as doing so would surely make them laugh out loud. Their mother had the audacity of a lioness. Unfortunately, they were her cubs and matrimony seemed to be fast approaching.

Neither had ever heard of a lowlander named William Collinson, Collins or whatever, but the MacBingley clan were well known to them. Well, the tales were well known, they had not actually met any of them since they were bairns. The rift between their mother and her distant cousins had seen to that.

Fiona MacBennet was distantly related to Lady Maggie MacBingley. A cousin, a few times removed but while Maggie MacBingley was the daughter of the laird's brother, Fiona MacBennet was the daughter of the blacksmith who caught the son of the laird MacBennet by the way of her beauty rather than her wit.

Fiona MacBennet had been beautiful, in fact, she still was. Probably the reason why Thomas MacBennet had not thrown her in the dungeon a long time ago. Her blonde locks had not a speck of grey in it, despite the fact that she was nearing her fourth decade.

Her skin was still smooth as ivory silk and her form had not withered after birthing him five daughters. She was perhaps a little rounder around the edges but still delectable in his eyes.

It had done his daughters no favours that their mother was blonde though as their father was dark-haired...

All had gotten fiery red hair out of their union save Jane who could be described to have light, strawberry blonde hair. It glittered like gold in the sun while the rest of the daughters' heads looked like they had caught on fire.

The feud with the MacBingleys had lasted a decade and sprung from Fiona's and Maggie's bickering on who was of more importance than the other. While the MacBingleys had more wealth in their vault, the MacBennets had more land. Which were of the greater consequence had never been agreed upon by the combatants. The dispute had escalated as quarrels usually do and words had been spoken in anger. The drop that had made Fiona's beaker overflow had been a cutting remark about her daughters' marriageability and there were rumours about the slap who had been heard from a distance.

The two ladies had not spoken since but the level-headed husbands had at least managed to stop the war.

Jane and Lizzy had only vague memories of the blond MacBingley trio of boys.

Lochlan was the eldest brother, an insipid and bland fellow according to Lizzy. He was five and twenty and had recently married the laird of Kincaid's daughter Catriona. Lochlan and Catriona were welled matched if not the most exciting couple to invite as guests.

Charles was the middle brother, he had two years on Jane and had been educated in England.

He had been sent to Eton at the tender age of twelve and had finished his education at Cambridge University.

Ten years had gone since he left but he was due back this summer. Expected home at any moment if the rumour mill was anything to go by. His parents were proud and glossed over the fact that Campbell, had not finished his education at the University in Edinburgh. Campbell was next and of the same age as Jane but while Charles was all that was amiable and kind, Campbell had a vile mouth and a bad temper. He had disparaged Lizzy's looks by mocking her freckled face, pulled her hair and called her a carrot. Elizabeth's hair had darkened some since that day at the MacBingley keep but not by much. It was a sore point for the fierce but tender-hearted girl. She took some consolation in Campbell's name though. Campbell derived from the Gaelic Caimbeul, cam - meaning crooked and beul - meaning mouth. Elizabeth thought it quite fitting that the MacBingleys had named their youngest son _wry-mouthed._ Besides, he was much too high on the instep to recommend himself to the Bennet sisters save Jane who never thought ill of anyone. He had been named for his mother's clan which their own mother also hailed from, not as a derogatory of his mouth.

The thought of a reunion was not all unpleasant as it meant a feast with music and dancing, through the long summer night. It was a long time since the MacBennets had held an event at the Eilean Bennet Castle with guests from the outside of their clan.

Situated on an island in Loch Tay, the castle was only accessible via the stone bridge, an advantageous feature in the Scottish Highlands in periods of unrest but it also made the young sisters a bit secluded from the rest of the clan, especially as children. Their father did not appreciate when either of them ventured too far outside the castle's walls which most of them obeyed but not Lizzy. She could be seen riding at breakneck speed on Kelpie, her skewbald mare of bay and white, rummaging through the woods on foot or high up in a tree. The girl had more vigour than was healthy, her mother used to say but in the later years she had given up entirely.

The sisters put their heads together to plan their appearance. Their mother would surely insist on a new gown for each of her daughters to wear. It was important to get a head start on their younger sisters and they headed for the chest with bolts of fabric and decided on the cloth that would suit them most. Mary would probably not bother with a new gown as hers were all in impeccable condition while Kitty and Lydia were too immature to consider marriage yet. They should definitely have the last pick as it mattered little either way what they looked like on the occasion.

Not that Jane nor Lizzy was desperate to marry but they had to concede with their mother on this. They were of marriageable age and Jane desperately wanted a knight in shining armour, the love story above anything else while Lizzy craved to get out from under her parents' feet and explore the world outside of Eilean Bennet.

If it had been solely the MacBingleys that had been invited, Lizzy might not have been so eager to comply but the guest list was long and promising.

The Kinkaid clan was invited and they were currently being visited by several members of the MacIntyre clan. The heir to the Kinkaid clan was a brawny fellow or so they had heard. There had to be a tall, dark and handsome highlander among them, the tall bit being relative in Lizzy's case as she did not tower much above the ground. Pretty much everybody was tall in her eyes but she had someone to measure them by. Camkirk, her personal protector. He had been assigned to Lizzy after she had failed to come home one night. She had been found unconscious on the forest floor the next day and had suffered a concussion for weeks afterwards. Luckily for her, it had been summer or she might have frozen to death.

Camkirk was a little past his prime which was probably the reason her father could spare him but he was big as a mountain and strong as an ox.

Sewing was not Lizzy's favourite pastime but for this occasion, she set to the task with a devotion previously unheard of.

Her old frocks were threadbare and several had green spots from rolling in the grass or tears from a stubborn branch. She needed a new tunic as well, one that was not yellow at the neckline...

It was a good thing they had three weeks to prepare, Lizzy figured she would have to utilize every vacant minute to finish.

Her mother would be in a state of fit with the preparations and none of her daughters would be left unscathed to aid her in her endeavours.

*Skewbald is a term often used as a generic reference to colour to describe a horse of any colour, except black, with the overo or tobiano pattern or both (tovero). (Equine World)

*Kelpie, or water kelpie, is a shape-shifting water spirit inhabiting the lochs and pools of Scotland. Often described as a horse. (Wikipedia)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Thistle Fury**

_Scottish blessing:_

_If there is righteousness in the heart, there will always be beauty in the character._

When the day finally came and guests were milling over the stone bridge to Eilean Bennet Castle, Lizzy was busy.

Her mare had decided to have her foal on this very day and Elizabeth was not about to abandon her horse in her time of need. Besides, the stable hands were occupied with accommodating all the horses that were arriving with their guests.

Lizzy had, fortunately, not had time to change into her new frock but her shoes had not been so lucky. Sodden by blood and birth water as her mare's new-born, black stallion had seen his first ray of light and taken his first wobbling steps on shaky legs. Elizabeth had laughed out loud, startling Kelpie, as he staggered to his feet. He looked like he was blootered.

The music had begun playing before Elizabeth thought it safe to run inside and change into her new gown.

The drawback was that there was nobody left inside to help her. It was fortunate that her gown was laced in the front and not in the back but her hair was another matter. She braided the front but gave up on mastering her long curls and left it hanging down her back. The worst was still her shoes. She dried them off with flannel cloths but they made gurgling sounds as she tried to pull them on. It was a futile endeavour and she left them off with her now sodden socks.

The weather was balmy or she might have had to stay inside. It matched her new tunic perfectly as she had opted for the short, puffy sleeves and low neckline.

On her way out she glanced into her fathers favourite hideaway but he was not there. Elizabeth was glad that he had chosen to participate rather than exclude himself from the company.

Elizabeth was rushing out the door towards the big bonfire when she remembered that she had forgotten to leave a fresh bundle of hay for Kelpie. The detour would not be long and she turned on her heel towards the stable, found a pair of oversized boots inside the door so she would not tread on bare feet in something nasty and threw fresh hay over Kelpie's stable wall. The temptation to look at the foal, one last time, proved too strong and she sneaked into the cubicle. Kelpie was none too pleased with Elizabeth standing in the way of her fresh hay and nudged her but Elizabeth managed to stay on her feet. She was off-kilter though when the new-born foal came bouncing around his mother, knocking her further off her feet. She stumbled in her large boots and landed on her hindquarters in the fresh hay.

Relived that she had landed in the cleanest spot she could have possibly managed, she brushed the hay from her skirt and headed outside before anything more untoward could happen.

The dancing was in full swing and the first familiar person she spotted was Jane dancing with a handsome man with a wide grin and twinkling eyes. He looked utterly besotted but so did Jane. The man winked at a fellow on the outskirt of the dancers. He did not dance himself but seemed to amuse himself by stalking around the revellers. The dark-haired man on the outskirts rolled his eyes at the blond winker and turned for a second in Elizabeth's direction. She froze on the spot and was glad that the musicians had drowned out her loud gasp.

He was the most magnificent specimen of man she had ever seen. Tall, broad-shouldered, chiselled bone structure, the corners of his mouth curled in an amused smile. She hoped his eyes were blue but it was impossible to discern at a distance. He moved elegantly and confidently, like her father's treasured stallion.

Elizabeth started out in the opposite direction, hoping to encounter him face to face along the perimeter of the dancers. He had ducked out of sight when the dance was over and she was waylaid by her sister and her dance partner. Jane introduced her man as the much revered Charles MacBingley and he bowed to her and thanked Jane heartily for the dance. He coerced Jane into promising him a dance later after he had ensured the comfort of a friend that did not have many acquaintances in attendance.

'He seemed so kind-hearted and good-natured, perfect for her sister Jane.' Elizabeth thought, a little embarrassed that she had not recognised him.

Elizabeth could not help herself and tugged Jane into a tight embrace while she whispered in her ear: "He is half in love with you already. You must forge while the iron is hot."

Jane laughed and pulled herself free and grabbed Elizabeth's hands in hers.

"Hush Lizzy, you might jinx it."

Shy Jane was practically bouncing on her feet, Elizabeth had never seen her sister looking so perfectly happy. Her eyes glittered in the rays of the setting sun. It made Elizabeth just as gloriously joyous. Her mare had birthed a strapping foal with little trouble and Jane's heart had been touched, nothing could destroy the joy she felt at that moment. Above her own happiness, was Jane's happiness. Who would not wish every pleasure on such a deserving creature as her eldest sister?

Fitzwilliam Darcy was sulking on the outskirts of the merriment. Charles, who had promised to never leave his side in the company of these savages had done exactly that, minutes after their arrival. Lured away by a strawberry blonde beauty. Even he would admit that she was uncommonly pretty but she was still Scottish which would not be so bad if she had not hailed from the uncouth Highlands. As did Charles but he had lived his forming years under the best tutelage that England could offer. It had turned him into a refined gentleman. That would never have happened had he not left for Eton and later Cambridge, where they had been introduced.

Darcy had taken an instant liking to the merry fellow with a happy disposition that concealed a keen mind for business to many an ignorant but not him. He had spotted it almost at their first meeting and they had been friends ever since which had ultimately led him into the conundrum he now found himself in, at this very moment.

When he reluctantly had agreed to visit MacBingley, he had not expected to be dragged along to dance with the heathens, out of doors by a bonfire. He would be the laughing stock of all of London's high society if they ever found out he had participated in this pagan festival. Not to forget his relations. Lady Catherine would be appalled which might not be such a bad thing if it would convince her that he was unsuited as her daughter's husband. He could not fight the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth by that thought. Perhaps he should mention the trip, just in her hearing. Nah, she would never keep quiet. The Matlocks would be informed as quickly as an express rider could be dispatched.

His musings had left him in a rare, humorous disposition. The fact that MacBingley had been freed of his dance partner and was coming towards him, added to his stellar mood.

"Darcy come here, I must have you dance. This is not like the stiff balls of the upper éclat's of London. The girls are prettier and the dances are much more fun."

Darcy was not that fond of fun, he preferred quiet contemplation or heated debates to fun at any given moment.

"You were dancing with the only pretty girl in the entire Highlands. She is occupied as I just spotted her being scurried away buy a burly warrior in a kilt. I would prefer not to antagonize him by stealing his partner. To stand up with any of the other women present would surely be more punishment than pleasure."

"I would not be as fastidious as you for the entire Highlands. Jane MacBennet is an angel but there are many pretty ladies here. Just behind me is Jane's sister, Elizabeth. She is uncommonly pretty, would you not say?"

MacBingley turned and pointed at the girl in a dark green gown with fiery red curls tumbling down her back. Darcy snorted, did she not know that a lady never wore her hair down in company? It was simply not done.

To add to the lack of refinement, she had straws of hay in her hair and at the bottom of her hem, he noticed as his eyes travelled downwards and spotted her lack of shoes as she rose on her toes to hug a friend.

"Surely not... That hair looks like it is about to catch on fire, mayhap it already has. I can see hay sticking out of the mess. To be out in company without donning her hair with hay protruding from her scalp to her ankles which are bare, I noticed. I do not dance with peasant girls MacBingley. I daresay my toes will bear the deprivation of being stepped on by your Scottish thistle."

At that moment, the Scottish thistle turned towards him with beautiful green eyes, or were they blue? Even in daylight, right in front of him he could not choose one colour over the other and decided they were both. The outer rim was definitely dark green but the rest was flecks of green and blue, scattered with specks of silver. He was lost. Belatedly, he remembered to close his mouth that had fallen open on its own accord. Her lips were puckered in a kissable manner but he doubted the gesture would be welcomed. He lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. The wide-open orbs had been narrowed by long thick lashes, they were red as her hair. Her nose and cheeks were dusted with freckles, how adorable, all ladies should have them. He must remember to tell Georgiana when he was back home, not to wear those ridiculous wide-brimmed bonnets...

"Mr MacBingley, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your nitwitted friend?"

The dryad quirked an eyebrow. Even her alto voice flowed through his ears like the softest velvet.

"Certainly, Miss Elizabeth."

'Elizabeth, what a beautiful name. Perfect for whispering softly in a dainty ear while... Why was MacBingley scowling at him?'

"Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire."

"Sassenach?"

'Her nose had cute little wrinkles, accentuating her lovely freckles. She let out a musical laughter.

Good, she was not offended by his misapprehensions before they were introduced.'

"My horse just had a foal... today. I had to check on him and my mare before I could join the merriment. I just had a splendid idea for the name of my new stallion. Fitzwilliam means son of William doesn't it?" Charles nodded as Darcy had not found his wits yet.

'Elizabeth, because that was what he was allowed to call her in his mind, let out a shrill sound. Was she calling her horse like he had taught his horse? The lady kept amazing him at every turn.'

"I think I will call the foal Fitzfitzwilliam's spawn of the devil as he is a lanky, wobbly arrogant little bastard. His coat is black as the night. I hope you do not mind me naming my horse after your manservant but his ridiculous suit reminded me of the foals black coat. Mischievous little rapscallion, he knocked me over while I was feeding his exhausted mother. What do you say, Camkirk? Shall I make you trade your kilt for braise?"

A giant of a man appeared before his eyes. Weathered and scarred, the telltale signs of a warrior that had experienced many battles and survived them all.

"Come now, Miss Lizzy. You cannot go around, insulting your mother's guests. You must apologise to MacBingley's gentleman friend."

'Goliath had been stern but his tone of voice suggested great affection for his Elizabeth which endeared him to Darcy. Wait, who had she insulted?' His eyes moved from the giant to the petite lady in front of him. 'She looked a little tired, had she been up all night with her mare? Was her eyes misty, did her lip tremble ever so slightly? Who had affected her so, he would knock him out cold. Unless it had been the giant, even he knew, he would never win over this abnormity of human strength.' Darcy rarely looked up at any man, being a tall man himself but this Camkirk had an advantage of him by several inches.

Elizabeth lifted her now suspiciously cloudy eyes and met the tender gaze of the giant.

"He called me a peasant girl and... and... a thistle!"

'The hitch in her voice was unmistakable, she was on the verge of crying and it was his own damn fault...'

Camkirk pulled Elizabeth into a fierce bear hug.

"Did he now? Dinna fash yerself... Let me tell you a little story lass, then you can decide if he should live or no...

In the mid 13th century, a Norse king called Haakon tried to invade Largs.

His Viking warriors came creeping upon the Clansmen and Highlanders in the stealth of night, planning an attack while they slept.

To approach without a sound, they took off their shoes which became their undoing.

One of the Vikings stepped on a thistle and his screeching could have wakened the dead. The Clansmen and Highlanders leapt to their feet, grabbed their swords and charged into battle. The legend says that because of the vital role the thistle played in the victorious outcome, the thistle was immediately picked as the national emblem of Scotland. Now lass, what shall we do with that loser of a Sassenach that stepped on the thistle. Should we send him back to England with his tail between his legs or shall I snap his neck and bury him within the manure pile behind the stables? Surely, none will be looking for him in that foul-smelling hill..."

The wood nymph laughed and swatted the giant's arm.

"No, I think my tongue lashing will have to suffice. I haven't had a chance to danced yet, come."

Elizabeth grabbed the giant's hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. He did not budge.

"Absolutely not, lass. My dancing days were over before they began. I am your protector, not your sport. You know my hip would not survive. What would be entertaining was if you and the Sassenach..."

Elizabeth head snapped towards Camkirk, eyes shooting daggers in his direction as she deftly interrupted the giant.

"You cannot mean... He called me..."

"Aye, peasant and thistle. Neither is insults lass. The peasants work hard for Eilean Bennet Castle's food and prosperity, thistles are worth its weight in gold. We might have been ruled by the pagan Vikings if not for that hardened plant. I recall someone referring to the spawn of the devil. I say the insults were evenly distributed and the punishment for the both of you will be an awkward and uncomfortable dance with each other.

Now, where are your shoes, lass? Your mother will have both our hides if she finds you gallivanting around without..."

"They were drenched in the birth water. I tried to dry them off but they had soaked through."

"You could have taken your slippers."

"And ruined them after few steps over the pebbles and grass?"

The eyebrow that seemed to have a life of its own leapt towards her hairline.

"Right, that would not do but you are not talking me out of me mission, lass."

Camkirk grabbed her hand and offered it to Darcy.

"May I suggest, Sir, that you utilize that fine education I am sure your father lavished upon you with a heartfelt and sincere apology. No amount of grovelling could prove too much."

Darcy nodded and offered his elbow to the indignant Highland Valkyrie. She threw a look towards Camkirk that could probably ignite a fire as he put her hand on Darcy's arm but the giant proved to be implacable.

Darcy lay his free hand atop of Elizabeth's. He told himself it was to give her comfort because that is what he did when he was escorting his sister and he could feel her tense up. That was only half of the truth as it was as much to prohibit her from fleeing as it was to provide her some comfort.

He had tried to be funny, failing miserably when he made those comments about her hair. He should have known better, he was not a funny man. Never had been, never would be. It was a pathetic attempt to make MacBingley laugh and it had fallen flat. MacBingley had not been amused and he had hurt the most gorgeous creature he had ever beheld. What could he ever say that would make amends for such an affront? Nothing that came to mind... He wished she would look up and meet his eyes. He could communicate his regret with his eyes what his mouth could not express but she did not. Her eyes were averted to the ground. Perhaps she worried that he might step on her bare toes.

He looked around and it got worse. He did not know this dance, it was none of those his dance master had drilled into his head. The steps seemed haphazard, he strained to understand the order of it when Elizabeth tugged her hands free. She was going to bolt, abandoning this clod that had led her to the midst of the revellers, only to freeze on the spot.

Elizabeth kept her head down, making sure her bare feet did not show as she walked to the midst of the dancers. She had freckles even there, on the top of her feet but he had not mentioned her freckles, had he? No, it was her hair which was nothing new under the sun. She had seen her own reflection many times.

It was the peasant and thistle comment that hurt. The arrogant English bastard was unlikely to have heard the Viking story or even to have known it was a Scottish national emblem. She was not about to disparage the peasants that put food on their table and made Eilean Bennet Castle prosper but grabbed onto the thistle remark with vengeance in mind. She added Camkirk to the plot.

Had he known her thoughts before the insulting remarks, he would probably not have forced her to dance with the scallywag but she was never going to enlighten him on that account. The secret would be tucked away in the most remote recess of her mind, never to be called upon again.

She noticed that their progress had stopped. A glance told her that her escort was looking around with a bewildered expression. He clearly had no idea how to dance. Oh, bother and misery...

She loosened her hold on his arm and his head snapped up in her direction, his blue eyes opened wide. His lashes were thick and black, what would she not sacrifice for lashes like that. A limb came to mind but she soon realised that was perhaps a feature she needed.

She grabbed both of his hands and moved to her left, twirling them around. If he could not lead them, she would...

He was dizzy, they were spinning around on the grass in a dance he had never seen the likes of when she suddenly stopped and he almost stumbled forward. She raised her left hand and went to his left side. He did not comprehend so she took hold if his left arm and raised so she could clap it. When she moved to his right he knew what to do. Elizabeth moved away from him and skipped and bounced with her arms held high. Her hair flowed in auburn waves down her back as she twirled, it must have been the light from the setting sun that had made it look like fire.

Darcy stood rooted to the spot as he notices the other male dancers skipped around while their feet moved like drumsticks. He would have liked to see Elizabeth's feet move in a similar fashion but they were covered by her white tunic and deep green gown.

Another Highland lady grabbed Elizabeth's arm and spun her around simultaneously, a Highland warrior grabbed his arm and he had no choice but to let himself be twirled. Fortunately, it was just a few rounds before the warrior let him go and it was Elizabeth linking her arm in his. Another spin and he felt faint. He had an apology to make but no appropriate words were materialising in his mind.

"I am sorry you heard me, in an around about way, calling you the spawn of the devil."

She had beat him to it. Apologised in a circuit manner, followed by a secret smile that she was trying to conceal by pursing her full lips. It made him yearn to touch them with his own. He was fully aware that her apology had been nothing of the sort but he thanked her anyway. It made those celestial orbs widen in surprise, leaving him breathless for more. On that thought, the bagpipes went silent. The dance was over, he had missed his chance. He could do nothing but escort her back to her sister or could he. He needed more time and she seemed preoccupied as he led her towards the outskirts and paid him no attention.

"May I call on you on the morrow? I owe you an apology."

"To what purpose? I believe we have paid our penance, there is no need to further this tragedy. Let me make it easy for you, Mr Darcy?

I forgive you. There you have it. Now, I give you leave to forget we have ever met."

He did not get the chance to reply before she yanked her hand free and broke into a run. Obviously desperate to get away from him as fast as humanly possible.

He kept on walking with his eyes strained on her retreating form and the curls that whipped her back as she ran. She was heading towards the stables. Darcy thought she was going to check her horse when she whirled off track and disappeared behind the stable.

Almost immediately, she resurfaced with another redheaded girl that she was pulling along by her braid. A young lad followed with his head turned down. The spectacle proceeded towards the entrance of the castle when a man intercepted them. He wore his long white hair in a queue and sported a massive white beard.

Elizabeth showed the other girl in front of him, relating some sort of tale, judging by the gestures but he could see that the shoulders of the man slumped in defeat. He waved to Camkirk who stepped up to them, grabbed the girl that Darcy guessed was a MacBennet and hauled her over his shoulder. He carried her into the castle while the girl wailed, slapped and kicked with all her might. Camkirk yanked off her shoes and threw them towards Elizabeth, making the girl wails intensify by a tenfold.

Elizabeth picked them up and sat on the steps to pull them on while the man he thought was her father shook his head. The patriarch, Darcy guessed, put a comforting hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.

Shoes in place, Elizabeth grabbed her father's hand and dragged him towards the dancers. He obviously tried to fight her off but she was relentless. They passed him without any acknowledgement and joined the vigorous reel. The father stood in the middle, much like Darcy himself had initially done, making him look like a curmudgeon. Elizabeth laughed and teased until he gave in and joined her in her merriment.

Darcy stood on the outskirts, watching the revellers when Campbell, Charles younger brother approached him.

"What an unpleasant way to spend an evening. I suppose you are missing the refinement of London society rather desperately. Perhaps we should all go, sooner rather than later, I would suggest. Charles is dancing with the eldest MacBennet for the second time. You know how easily he is persuaded by a pretty countenance. She could pull him into the dark depths by a thread."

London, he would not have traded a thousand balls for the chance of bathing one second in those stunning eyes. Neither would he deprive Charles of an angel if she was in fact one. He would at least meet her before he decided one way or the other. In the meantime, he would be watching his mouth like a hawk. Better to say nothing than let that mischief-maker run on without guidance.

He needed to think... He had to come up with something extraordinary if he were to earn Elizabeth's good opinion but he would be persistent in his pursuit.

Love at first sight, he would never have believed it possible, had he not experienced the notion himself.

His eyes moved from Elizabeth to her sister. They did not resemble each other much apart from the red hues in their hair. While Elizabeth was short and curvy, Jane was tall and willowy. Jane's features were flawless, she had ivory skin without a freckle in sight while Elizabeth nose turned a little upwards and her skin was dusted with freckles. They both had high cheekbones, a heart-shaped countenance and full lips but Elizabeth upper lip was a straight line, without the cleft that Jane had. It somehow made her lips look softer and fuller.

The dance ended, Charles had spotted him with Campbell and was heading their way with a firm grip on Jane's hand. To his astonishment, so was Elizabeth. She was being hauled along by her father, obviously preferring another direction but her father would have none of it.

"Campbell, Darcy, meet beautiful Jane MacBennet. She is an excellent dancer, is she not?"

Darcy nodded politely.

"Miss MacBennet, my friend Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, my brother Campbell you know."

Jane curtsied politely but did not meet their eyes. Darcy recognized the signs he so often had observed in his sister, Jane was shy.

The MacBennet patriarch arrived with his reluctant daughter in tow but it was not him she was scowling at, it was Campbell, interesting... He preferred to be ignored rather than the recipient of that scowl.

Thomas MacBennet extended his large hand towards Charles, giving him a heartfelt welcome back to Eilean Bennet Castle. He asked him intelligent questions about his education at Cambridge before he greeted Campbell. Campbell in turn, introduced Darcy as he was his particular friend, stepping in between Jane and Charles, forcing her to step back.

"I see your manners have not improved, despite your University education from Edinburgh," Elizabeth remarked wryly. Campbell turned towards her and smirked.

"You are mistaking university for a ladies seminar, perhaps _you_ should attend one?"

MacBennet put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth smiled up at him but he shook his head discreetly. Elizabeth's shoulders slumped at her father's curtailment.

"How is your sister Georgiana, Darcy? She is the epitome of female grace, beauty and accomplishments. In my eyes, no Highland wench can compare, braw or not."

Darcy frowned at Campbell, he had never met Georgiana. All he knew was what his brother had told him and Charles better not have cast his mooning eyes in that direction. The girl was four and ten, years from her come out, into society.

"Georgiana is currently residing at the Misses Hewlett's seminary." Which was all Darcy was prepared to divulge on that topic.

"An excellent educational institution, I am certain."

"I am not so sure, Georgiana's letters have been rather bleak lately..."

Darcy drove his hand through his hair before he could stop himself and immediately tried to brush down the tangled mess it had left in its wake.

"How old is your sister?" It was the timid Jane that had spoken.

"She is four and ten."

Darcy let his hands drop to his sides. What would he have done if he had overheard someone calling his sister a peasant and a weed?

He would probably have tied him behind his horse and dragged the culprit trough rocky terrain... It was a futile attempt but he needed to deliver a sincere apology.

"May I call upon you on the morrow, Laird MacBennet?"

The patriarch eyed him for a long enough moment to get uncomfortable but Darcy weathered it down.

"You may Mr Darcy."

*The Scottish Thistle, the earliest recorded Scottish national plant in the 13th century.

*Blootered – drunk

*Braw – beautiful


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 Grovelling**

_Scottish blessing: If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home._

Darcy knew that ladies, in general, liked flowers but it was not as if there was a hothouse on the MacBingley land. His only option was to pick some wildflowers as Lady MacBingley's roses had not yet bloomed.

It was after dawn but still early in the morning. The keep was quiet as most were asleep from the previous night's revelries. He had stayed to the bitter end himself, pondering on how to formulate his apology while watching Elizabeth dance and laugh with men that was not himself. He had not mustered up the courage to ask her for a second dance, not when she was plainly avoiding him.

She had danced undiscriminatingly with young and old, even a young lad of at the most, twelve summers. He had been reluctant and she had hauled him to the shadows and obviously taught him some of the more manageable steps. When she was finished with him, she had escorted him to a young lass and the two had danced the next reel while Elizabeth had remained as a spectator. Clapping with glee as the young couple skipped around like the ground was scorching hot.

After hours of contemplation, he had come up with very little to show for his endeavours. He wanted to woo her but all he had was a sorry bunch of weeds he had picked in the field.

It was not the grand opening he had imagined. He speculated if he should add a few thistles to break the ice but the reference had not gone down so well the evening before...

Perhaps he was inept at wooing a lady, it was a new experience for him. He had been the one being chased for as long as he could remember.

Darcy suddenly wished Richard had accompanied him to the Highlands, he would have known what to do. Charming as he was to the fairer sex.

Darcy did not consider himself charming, he had never needed to be but he had other qualities to recommend himself. He was loyal, fair and he had a lot of love in his heart...

Darcy's mood plummeted further when it became clear that not only Charles would accompany him to Eilean Bennet Castle but Campbell as well.

Campbell was the annoying younger brother who tagged along with his older siblings whether they wanted him to or not.

Now that he was no longer a child it was no longer charming but Charles was a pushover when his family was concerned.

In addition, Campbell had made it abundantly clear that he had a horn in the side of the MacBennet clan which did nothing to endear him to Darcy.

He understood there was a history behind it and the tale had been related to him by a gleeful Campbell. The entire feud was based upon a pair of squabbling mothers, quarrelling about their children. Darcy was not impressed that such a trivial matter had created a decade worth of hostility but he sensed that it was more behind Campbell's resentment.

Anyway, the MacBennets had offered an outstretched hand and the MacBingleys was, for the most part, ready to accept.

The trio set out around noon, it was not considered polite to arrive too early after a night of merriment.

Darcy was anxious to get it over with while Charles was eager to see his angel.

The hooves of their horses resonated on the stone bridge they had to cross to get to Eilean Bennet. It was impossible to get there unannounced by horseback.

Darcy clutched his bouquet of wildflowers as he alighted from his horse and handed the reins to a stable hand.

He kept himself in the background as they tread the steps up to the entrance and entered into a great hall that stretched over two floors. A fire was burning in the hearth to chase away the morning chill. Unlike Pemberley, the castle was cold and had a draft, making it necessary to heat it up even on a summers day.

They were led into a library by Camkirk, who seemed to be everywhere at once. He just about made it inside the inviting room when he was accosted by a mature blond lady, not entirely out of her bloom.

"Charles, Campbell, Mr Darcy, how nice to see you. The girls are assembling in the hall as we speak. Except for Lizzy, of course, she is in the stable with her horse. Trying to avoid Mr Collins. Her mare has delivered a beautiful new foal, she has given it a very strange name though. Fitzfitzwilliam is not an appropriate name for a horse, I hope we will be able to convince her to change it but it is her horse so... Oh, flowers! How thoughtful of you to bring me flowers, Mr Darcy. It almost makes up for your slight against my daughter, had it been Jane or Lydia, I might not have been so forgiving but Lizzy is wild. It is not strange you took her for a peasant without shoes on her feet.

That girl will be the end of me, she has no compassion for my poor nerves.

I adore flowers, even the ones who grow wild when there are none other to be had. Oh, storkbills, I love those. Their petals are so delicate. Did you know that if a lady puts seven different specimens of flowers under her pillow on midsummer eve, she will dream of her future husband?" The lady did obviously not expect an answer as she continued on both exhale and inhale. "I lured some under all my daughters' pillows last night but I have not had the opportunity to question any of them yet. Lydia and Kitty knew, they thought it very romantic, would you not say, Charles? Mary and Lizzy are a different matter, not a romantic bone in their bodies. It is very vexing for a mother to have such headstrong and stubborn daughters. Oh, I hope Mr Collins will settle for Lizzy. She is not as beautiful as my Jane, I have much higher hopes for my Jane. She will inherit Eilean Bennet Castle and all the land. Mr Collins, well, he has a profession... Lizzy is much more suited for a clergyman's wife. Very practical and sturdily built. She doesn't mind a little dank and draft in a parsonage..."

"Wife!" MacBennet's voice boomed, startling even Darcy. He wished he had ended the tirade a lot sooner though.

"Fiona, would you order the warriors and gentleman some tea, dear?"

His voice changed from commanding to tender for his entreaty.

"Certainly, how silly of me to forget. I must still be tired from yesterday..."

The matriarch hurried away while Darcy threw a wistful glance at the retreating flowers he had meant for Elizabeth. He never stood a chance when Fiona MacBennet, snatched them out of his hands.

Darcy sighed and followed the MacBingleys into his future father's dungeon, although the room was nothing but. Floor to ceiling shelves, lathered with books. Comfortable but well-worn chairs and a sofa near the hearth made the room look inviting.

They were offered seats which they graciously took.

Darcy felt as he had been admitted to a dungeon because of his mission of delivering an apology which had just become even more difficult with the realisation that everybody knew of his misconduct. It was probably just as embarrassing if not more for Elizabeth. He hoped she had not been reminded of the dreadful appellations by her family.

He could not delay it any longer, no matter how little prepared he was.

"Laird MacBennet, I need to speak with your daughter Miss Elizabeth. I owe her a long-overdue apology..."

MacBennet looked amused with the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

"I thought you apologized yesterday, I heard about your forfeit of half an hour of your life. I certainly would see it as a penalty but I wonder if a young buck like yourself does? Dancing with an intelligent and braw girl, hmm."

MacBingley, the younger, opened his mouth before Darcy had a chance to reply. Chuckling as he droned on.

"I can assure you it felt like a penalty to Mr Darcy, he abhors dancing even at the most fashionable balls in London. His dislike for the activity is widely known in the higher circles."

MacBennet did not look as pleased as Darcy would have thought by Campbell's allegations and turned his discerning eyes to Darcy.

"Is it true, Mr Darcy?"

"Not quite," he admitted. "I am not opposed to dancing in itself as much as having to hold a conversation with a stranger for the entirety of half an hour. That said, I am not particularly proficient in the Scottish reel which adds to my discomfort. I prefer the..."

Campbell rudely interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"...more sophisticated dances?"

Darcy frowned at the youngest MacBingley brother who seemed so full of himself while not having the integrity to carry it.

"No, I meant less vigorous. My legs are not trained for the rapid movements and my frame is a little too heavy for jumping about. I am not light of foot."

"Do you prefer activities that you already excel in, Mr Darcy?"

"Yes," Darcy replied bluntly to Laird MacBennet's inquiry who in turn laughed at his honesty.

A knock on the door was heard an instant before it flew open and Lady MacBennet entered.

"Tea is served," she announced but it was not followed by any actual cups of the liquid.

"Really, I cannot see it..."

"Not here, MacBennet. It is much more comfortable to be seated in the great hall. Cook managed to deliver some of her delicious pastries as well. I hope you are all hungry because we have plenty to go around."

Charles leapt to his feet before Lady MacBennet had finished her sentence and Darcy followed, not far behind.

"After you," MacBennet offered, leaving Campbell with little choice in the matter.

The MacBennet daughters were, not surprisingly, waiting for them around the giant table in the great hall, save one. Elizabeth was not there... Was it on purpose because she knew he was there or was she occupied with her mare and foal? Perhaps there was something wrong with the foal? He hoped not but those first days could be difficult. He had the impression that it had been the mare's first foal which added to the risks.

Elizabeth entered in a threadbare frock, the stunned expression belying the conjecture of her knowledge of his or the MacBingley brothers presence.

"Lizzy," lady MacBennet screeched in a drawn-out fashion. Hurrying towards her daughter as to shield her from their guests' sight. She grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the staircase, whispering furiously in her ear.

"Lizzy?"

"Yes, papa."

"Make sure you come down when you have refreshed yourself. I need to speak to you.

Preferably with shoes on and your hair in some sort of arrangement."

Elizabeth trudged up the stairs, in no hurry to join the company. What great sin had she committed to deserve such misfortune?

In addition, she had managed to present herself in less than mint condition to the only man that had given her belly butterflies. It had been short-lived, ten minutes perhaps but it was the only infatuation she had ever suffered. In those few blessed moments, she had felt a tug stronger than anything she had ever experienced. Her heart had beaten wildly in her chest as her eyes had been glued to the progress of his person.

What would have happened if Jane had not intercepted her?

She would probably have made a fool of herself. The man found her wanting in every way.

Finally, at her room, she closed the door and leaned heavily upon it. She rested her head against the cool wooden surface, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

It was a good thing she had accidentally eavesdropped. It had rescued her from a futile infatuation, perhaps even an unrequited love. It was better to have your heartbreak in two than to have it shattered into a million pieces...

The door flew open and Elizabeth braised herself, lest she would hit the opposite wall.

Moira, her mother's commanding maid had just entered and Elizabeth found herself relieved of her dirty gown before she had time to open her mouth. A moist flannel cloth was thrust into her hands while a gown of midnight blue with thin copper threads and front lacing was thrust over her head. It was not until she was pushed down in the chair before her vanity that she had an opportunity to utilize the cloth which she did without complaint.

Elizabeth had learned at an early age that Moira's words ruled. Protests were redundant and blatantly overlooked.

Her hair was swiftly pulled up in a simple ribbon, leaving her curls bouncing at the top of her head. It was all there was time for because time was of the essence. The nest of curls resembled a wasp nest to Elizabeth but she dared not voice the thought out loud.

A black belt with the copper pattern from the gown was tied around her waist before she was pushed out the door and hauled back downstairs and delivered at her mother's feet.

Fiona and Moira were thick as thieves. Her maid was one of the few females who could stomach her mother's incessant chatter.

"Much better, thank you, Moira." Her mother looked her up and down before she was dismissed to a seat next to her father. Fiona had claimed Charles and Campbell on her right and left side. Conveniently placing Jane next to Charles and Mary next to Campbell.

While she was spot on with the machinations to her right, the placements to her left could not have been less so. Campbell and Mary had nothing to talk about which left him with Fiona. Being his mother's favourite, the legendary slap was by no means forgotten nor forgiven. He detested Fiona and he had no reason to conceal it. The animosity to Fiona's left went unnoticed by her right side wing. Charles and Jane had their heads close together as they spoke quietly amongst themselves. Her father had been left with the company of Mr Darcy as Kitty and Lydia refused to be separated, filling up the places next to Jane. There was a vacant seat beside Mr Darcy but Elizabeth chose to sit on the other side of her father.

"How are your new foal doing? What was its name again? Fitz..."

Elizabeth knew it was rude to interrupt but for some reason, she could not bear for her father to reveal the name she had given the foal in a fit of pick.

"It is thriving father, but Kelpie is moping. I do not know if she is just tired or if there is something a matter with her." Elizabeth refocused on her food because looking up might put Mr Darcy in her line of sight

"Are you sure none of the fetal membrane was retained?" A velvety baritone voice inquired.

Elizabeth reluctantly raised her eyes to the speaker who audibly sucked in a breath.

"It was hard to tell. It raptured before the foal was delivered. I cannot see anything wrong from the outside now..."

Darcy turned to Laird MacBennet.

"Do you have any experienced stable hand who can examine the mare?"

"I do but it will be a few hours before he is sober enough to be of use. I found him in our kitchen when I woke up. Drunk as a fiddler, mooning at our cook. If you had met the wench you would understand the level of drunkenness needed for that kind of blindness."

"Papa," Elizabeth uttered in an admonishing tone.

"A cook that can make such delicious pastries is worth her weight in gold. May I offer to relieve you of her? Pemberley could always do with a pastry-making cook..."

MacBennet guffawed and slapped Mr Darcy's shoulder.

"Over my dead body, son."

Darcy wished he was, his son, not that Elizabeth's father was dead. Glancing at Elizabeth, he could tell she was not amused. A deep frown had developed between her brows and she was shifting the food around on her plate.

"Mr Collins!" Fiona exclaimed as a tired, heavy-looking young man descended the stairs. She was on her feet within a blink of an eye. Hoisting Lydia out of her seat and placed her next to Darcy.

"As a single man in possession of a good fortune, you must be in want of a wife... Lydia is almost as beautiful as Jane but much more lively. You need to liven up a bit." Lady MacBennet patted Darcy maternally on his shoulder. It took all his effort not to shudder, not at the touch but at the thought of marrying a child, lively or not.

"Mr Collins, take a seat next to Lizzy. She is..." Fiona's vocabulary of adjectives seemed to have exhausted itself. "Sturdy," she managed to quake out before she found her own seat.

MacBennet leaned back in his chair. Darcy thought he might be better off leaning forward and smack the hand that had just brushed his daughter's, quite unnecessarily. But MacBennet looked like he was enjoying himself with a smirk adorning his countenance.

Elizabeth looked like she was waiting for the ground to open and swallow her whole.

The parson, judging by his collar, droned on about himself, his _humble abode_ and his paragon of a patroness. It took the buffoon an eternity to get to the point but when Lady Catherine de Bourgh was mentioned his head snapped in his direction which did not go unnoticed by his perceptive host.

"Do you know the distinguished Lady, Mr Darcy?" MacBennet drawled.

"Mr Darcy?" The monkey interrupted.

"As _the_ Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?" The baboon tried to bow over his food and his forelock dipped into the soup that a maid had placed in front of him. At least, it dripped back into the container it had come from.

Darcy nodded but he was not about to let the canary hijack the conversation.

"Miss Elizabeth, I sense you are worried about your mare. If you like, I can examine her for you. I do have some experience in the matter. I breed horses at Pemberley and I have aided in many a foaling..."

"I could not inconvenience a guest of my father. Besides, you needed to talk to me, Papa?"

"I already have, lass. You go with Mr Darcy and check on your mare, I can see you are worried. I will entertain Mr Collins for the time being but do not try my patience."

Elizabeth looked like she was about to decline when Mr Collins bumped her leg with his knee.

Darcy could not know for certain but Elizabeth scooted away from him until she was perched on the edge of her seat and that is what he thought most likely to have happened.

Elizabeth rose from her chair with an expression of doomsday clouding her countenance.

Mr Collins moved to rise from his chair but MacBennet stalled him with a simple hand gesture. The man had an incredible presence and could have achieved whatever he wanted if he could be bothered to exert himself. At the moment, Darcy contented himself with gratefulness towards the man that allowed him a word with his daughter under fewer eyes, although he doubted they would be alone in the stable.

He guessed right, Camkirk followed at a distance. Out of earshot but within sight. He would be in much more trouble with him than he would have been with the Laird of Eilean Bennet.

Elizabeth and Darcy walked in silence towards the stables when Darcy's mouth had a disobedient moment.

"I brought you flowers." Elizabeth looked him in the eyes before her gaze travelled downwards to his empty hands.

It took Darcy a minute or two to shake the spell her remarkable eyes had cast over his faculties.

"Your mother took them, she misunderstood and thought they were for her. I did not have the heart to tell her they were not. She seemed very pleased despite the fact that they were merely wildflowers."

Elizabeth's eyes were examining him closely for the second time in a short span. Basking in her emerald, sapphire and moonlighted orbs took away his ability to think. He knew it was something he needed to remember but what it was quite escaped him.

"Why would you bring me flowers, Mr Darcy?"

Her eyes deprived him of his ability to think and speak, her deep velvety alto stole his ability to move... He came to an abrupt halt and drove his hand through his hair. He looked at her helplessly, trying to convey the sentiments he could not speak.

"I..."

Darcy took a deep fortifying breath and stepped a little closer so he could lower his voice.

"I owe you an apology...

I have wrecked my mind since the unpardonable untruths were uttered but I cannot come up with any words that would remotely suffice. I thought that perhaps a gesture might atone for some of my offences but all I could muster was a bouquet of wildflowers. I picked them in the fields beyond the MacBingley keep at dawn. Even those I managed to lose before I was able to give them to you. I am inept at making amends..."

He closed his eyes, hung his head and waited for her judgement to fall.

"I see that you have given this a lot of thought and you acknowledge your culpability. It gives you credit. If you could look at Kelpie and tell me she is well, I will consider it a sufficient gesture to reprieve you from the rest of your offence."

Darcy opened his bewildered eyes, his lips parted but he could not think of anything to add.

Elizabeth gave him a soft smile, the most wonderful gift he had ever received. Not even the black stallion his father had presented to him on his tenth birthday surpassed the ghost of a smile, she had bestowed upon him.

She did not loathe him, she probably did not like him either but he saw no contempt in her eyes. Merely weariness and a nominal novelty.

He followed her obediently into the stable, to the box where Kelpie and her foal were placed. At first glance, nothing untoward was noticeable.

"She has not eaten any of the hay I have brought her, neither has she touched the overripe apple which is highly unusual for her."

Darcy stepped closer to the mare who seemed to tolerate his presence although her ears lay back and she was observing him closely.

He let his hand stroke her back from the neck to the tale before he lifted the latter to see if there was any retained fetal membrane sticking out. It was not but that did not mean that there was not something left inside.

He removed his cravat, coat, waistcoat and unbuttoned his sleeves to roll up his shirt as far as he could manage.

"I need to examine her internally. Before I do that I need to gain her trust. While I do it, I need you to comfort her so she does not kick me."

Elizabeth nodded and turned her head away to hide her crooked smile.

Darcy moved to the horses head and spoke softly into her ear while stroking her neck. Kelpie nudged him a step back with her head before she lay it to rest on his shoulder. He continued to soothe the horse while he asked Elizabeth for soap and water to clean his hands.

She thought he needed the cleaning supplies to rinse after he was done but Darcy cleansed his hand and arm thoroughly before he applied it on the horse while Elizabeth observed in rapt attention but she did not comment.

Darcy was thankful she let him work undisturbed as he channelled his mind to what he was doing.

He found a piece of membrane and readied himself to jump out of the way from the blood rush he expected to follow when he removed it. He did not make it, not entirely and his shirt and buckskin breeches were soaked. He managed to wipe off his legs swiftly with some hay but his shirt was a lost cause. It did not matter, Kelpie had needed his intervention. She stomped around a little but settled quickly.

When she had calmed he checked if he had got it all out and he had.

"Will she be well?" The uncertainty in her voice tugged at his heartstrings.

"I believe so, you caught it early."

"Thank you!"

The gratitude in her voice was nice but not what he wanted. Embarrassed he nodded and washed the grim off his person.

"Come, my father will lend you a clean shirt. I cannot let you walk around with a bloody shirt, you might be mistaken for cutthroat and disposed of on the spot." An accentuating smile took the sting out of her words.

He carried his coat and waistcoat in his clean hands while they returned to the castle. Elizabeth stole glances at him clandestinely, he pretended not to notice. Sensing she would be embarrassed if he called her out.

With the first impression he had left her with, bewilderment was likely the best he could hope for.

Elizabeth guided him through a side entrance, assumedly to avoid horrifying her mother and sisters.

He had learned that she had a solicitous heart and she was considerate of others.

He might have been drawn to her beauty initially but the more he saw the harder he fell. From saving an ungrateful sister and aiding a shy young lad, to keep herself calm and collected during an emergency where many men would have fainted. He was duly impressed.

She gestured for him to enter a chamber while she remained on the threshold herself.

It was a generous, well-appointed room, obviously belonging to the laird.

Camkirk materialized from a side door.

"Mr Darcy needs a clean shirt. I offered him one of my father's shirts since he helped Kelpie. Will you see to it, Camkirk?"

Elizabeth turned and walked away, Darcy tugged the sticky shirt over his head as Camkirk rummaged through a chest.

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth twirled towards her father and got an eyeful of a bare-chested Darcy along the way. Her eyes widened, their gaze locked and held before her eyes travelled. It was a split second but Darcy put it away in his mind's treasure chest.

"Lass, what were you doing in my chamber?"

"Nothing, I went no further than the threshold. Kelpie bled on Mr Darcy's shirt, I offered him one of yours as a trade since he most likely saved Kelpie's life."

"Take heed, Lizzy, not to end up like my other silly daughters. A girl likes to be crossed in love now and again. It gives her precedence over the other lasses but I expect better from you. Let Mr Collins do the job, I am sure he will perform admirably."

Elizabeth's fists were clenching and unclenching while he spoke.

Finally, Camkirk found what he was looking for and handed Darcy a shirt that he pulled on immediately.

"Need any help with that?" Camkirk pointed at his coat.

"No, thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 The Proposal**

_Scottish blessing: _

_If there is harmony in the home, there will be order in the nation._

Darcy entered the great hall to join his friends. Campbell leapt from his chair, eager to be on his way home and away from Lady MacBennet who seemed oblivious to his dislike. Charles followed, albeit reluctantly, loathed to leave Jane's side but they had overstayed the usual time for a visit, many times over.

Charles ordered their horses saddled and bade their hosts' goodbye.

Campbell was particularly eager to be off, mounted his horse in a flourish and kicked his mount into gallop while Darcy and Charles followed in a much more sedate pace.

The folks on Eilean Bennet had finally awoken and were milling about to do their chores, belatedly and in much hurry. Campbell was not in a mood to slow down for anyone and jumped the fence of the empty pigpen to avoid some maids that was headed up from the lake with baskets full of clean clothes. His horse's front hoof landed in a pile of manure, it slipped on the slick substance and did not make the jump out of the pen. The horse and rider slammed into the fence, sending Campbell flying over the horse's neck and glide headfirst into a barrel. The maids screamed, Charles and Darcy jumped off their horses and ran to the MacBingley brother that lay unconscious on the ground.

The commotion alerted the rest of the inhabitants of Eilean Bennet and all milled to the scene of the accident.

Charles was wrought with worry and could not think straight, leaving it to Darcy to take charge of the situation. He tried to awaken Campbell and examine him for any obvious breaks. He did not find any but it became apparent that he would not awaken anytime soon.

Elizabeth and Camkirk were the first from the Eilean Bennet keep to reach the injured man. The maids stood helpless at a distance, watching without the wherewithal to aid.

Elizabeth put her cheek to his mouth. 'Good, he is breathing.' She put two fingers to his throat and felt a pulse as well. His heart was beating at a frantic pace.

"We should get him inside to check for further injuries. Moira, get mama's smelling salts. We will put him in the infirmary on the ground floor so we do not have to jostle him about so much.

Camkirk!"

The man obviously understood what she meant without her having to say it. He reached under Campbell's arms and lifted his torso. Darcy grabbed his legs while Charles stood tearing at his hair. They proceeded slowly to the Castle, guided by Elizabeth who ordered the maids to fetch water and clean cloth. They awoke from their stupor and scurried away to do her bidding.

The infirmary was bare from all but basic necessities. The bed was simple but serviceable and had a nightstand on either side, a few chairs lined the wall but there was nothing else.

Moira came with Lady MacBennet's smelling salt and handed it to Elizabeth. She applied it under his nose and to everyone's relief, he came to but immediately wrenched himself to the side and relieved himself of the content in his stomach. Luckily for Elizabeth, he had not moved in her direction. He fell back onto the pillow and moaned.

Charles hastened to his side and called his name but Campbell muttered something intelligible.

"He needs rest," Camkirk's voice rose above the din. "And darkness, these head injuries tend to lead to sensitivity to light. Pull all the curtains but one, Moira. I need a little light when I examine him more closely. Everybody out except you, Mr Darcy. I need someone to 'elp me undress him, are you up fer it?"

Darcy nodded. Elizabeth took Charles' arm and pulled him out of the room since he was not being helpful in any way.

"Mr MacBingley, may I offer you a cup of tea while the men see to your brother? I suspect that Campbell cannot be moved for a while. If you want to stay with your brother, I will arrange for a room to be readied for you."

"Yes, thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot bear the thought of leaving him. You are very kind."

"Nonsense, it is what neighbours do. I will find some writing supply as well. You probably want to alert your family as soon as can be. I will have a rider at your disposal when you have finished the note."

Fiona MacBennet chose that moment to assault Elizabeth with questions. Jane clandestinely pulled Charles aside and out of their mother's path. Elizabeth gestured for a room and writing supplies and Jane made sure he had each before she left him to aid Lizzy calming their mother.

The entire castle was in an uproar when Camkirk and Darcy emerged from the infirmary.

"How is Campbell doing?" Jane inquired anxiously.

"He is as well as can be expected. He has a concussion, he is nauseous and he has a severe headache. In addition, he is somewhat confused but that is not uncommon when you have taken a severe blow to the head. He will need rest and peace for a few days until the headache has cleared. It would be unwise to move him before that."

"Certainly not, he is welcome to stay for his entire recovery. You must not concern yourself with accommodations." Fiona MacBennet was nothing if not a good hostess, especially when there were handsome bachelors to be had.

"Yes, thank you Lady MacBennet. Your daughters have given me a room and writing supplies. I am grateful for your hospitality."

Fiona preened at the praise, both of her daughters and herself. Charles would be engaged to Jane before their visit was over, she would see to it.

Darcy cleared his throat. He would love to stay near Elizabeth but he had no excuse to do so. Campbell was not his brother. With Charles at Eilean Bennet, he might as well go home...

"I will bid you farewell and a speedy recovery to your brother Charles."

"What? You cannot desert me now?" Charles announced pleadingly. "Please say you will stay, Darcy. You always know what to do. You just experienced it for yourself, I am useless during an emergency. You do not mind an extra guest, Lady MacBennet?"

Jane locked her doe-eyes on MacBingley, thinking he was so cute and not afraid to express his flaws.

Elizabeth was less impressed. He should make an effort himself, not rely on others to sort out his problems. In that way, he would never learn anything.

Not surprising, Fiona agreed wholeheartedly to Charles' scheme. Darcy might think that Elizabeth was unworthy of his notice but Fiona MacBennet had several other daughters who were. Elizabeth was taken, Mr Collins was anxious to embark on the long journey back to his patroness. The proposal was most likely to come sooner rather than later.

If not, she would push the event forward herself.

Darcy was hauled up the stairs between Lady MacBennet and her maid. Camkirk winked at him, he did not understand why but guessed it was of little import. He was dragged to the room opposite of MacBingley the elder and a note was quickly dispatched for a change of clothes and other necessities to be brought.

It dawned on him then that the Laird and his protégé, Mr Collins, had been conveniently absent during the ordeal and none of the participants had asked for either of them. Not so strange in the circumstances of Mr Collins but odd for the laird himself.

Supper became a trial for Mr Darcy. The entire MacBingley clan had descended upon the MacBennet keep and the ambience was far from convivial.

The air was thick with animosity while the accident was explained many times over.

Elizabeth seemed to be particularly on the edge, puzzling since it had been Lady MacBennet who had slapped Lady MacBingley, initially.

It made sense that she evaded himself but why she also took pains to avoid Lady MacBingley was a mystery.

He knew there had been an altercation between Elizabeth and Campbell but they had been children at the time. Campbell looked like he had come out the victorious one after a few unkind remarks about her appearance. It was her bane in life, to be disparaged for her looks. Being mocked for the colour of her hair was a repetitive occurrence, in addition, Campbell had told her to wash the _dirt_ off her countenance. Rather difficult to achieve when the _dirt_ was her freckles. The tale said that Elizabeth had scrubbed her face for days without success, Darcy hoped they were exaggerating.

Why Campbell had been so mean in the first place, had never been more than alluded to but it was clear that Elizabeth had done something...

Lady MacBennet and Lady MacBingley appeared to have resolved their differences, chatting happily after the supper had finished. The men were offered a respite from the cackling in the laird's library, drinking and smoking. Darcy was not too keen on either. Most of all, he wanted to retire, preferably not alone. The thought was a novelty for Mr Darcy. At five and twenty he was not particularly eager to be caught in the parson's mousetrap. He was of age and had the means, it was the will that had been lacking. Up until now, that was. How could that woman have gotten under his skin, into his mind and penetrated his guarded heart in such a short time? He had known her for two days, for crying out loud! Perhaps he should leave... Conjecture up some excuse about Georgiana and head back to England and the safety of Pemberley before it was too late?

While his thoughts were churning he knew he was just puffing his chest, he would never follow through. He was in it too deep to resist the pull she had on him.

Yesterday, he had been floored by her beauty.

Today, he had seen some of her mettle. It left him yearning to know more, to see more, to experience every aspect of Elizabeth MacBennet of Eilean Bennet Castle.

As soon as the guests left, Darcy retired. Checking in on Campbell before he ascended the stairs to his room. Campbell was sleeping peacefully.

Had Elizabeth been a little less preoccupied with her own thoughts, she might have saved herself a lot of trouble but she was far from attentive.

One man, in particular, was occupying her mind, day and night, as she ascended the stairs to break her fast.

It was early yet, her mother and most of her sisters were still asleep. Only Jane was present at the table and she was occupied by a surprisingly early riser, Charles MacBingley. Elizabeth had pictured him as a late sleeper but here he was looking fresh and rested, as was Jane. Elizabeth felt like a washed-out cloth, sleep had evaded her for the second night in a row. Her dreams were invaded by a screeching Lady MacBingley, standing over her demanding an apology that Elizabeth had blatantly refused to give. For ten years she had kept that promise, never wavering in her resolve which is why she avoided Lady MacBingley. She knew it would be the first thing she would mention if she got Elizabeth within earshot. Then there was Mr tall, dark, handsome, annoying and frustrating. Always hovering in the background, in her mind and in reality.

He sat a few seats away, picking at his food absentmindedly.

Mary, Lydia and Kitty joined her at the table as she was chewing her last piece of bread. Worse yet her mother was ascending, time to make herself scarce. Too late, her mother called her to her side. Wanting a word with her in private, ominous in itself.

Lady MacBennet sailed into a smaller parlour and gestured for Elizabeth to enter, Elizabeth obeyed only to come face to face with their dreaded guest, Mr Collins.

"Mr Collins asked for a private audience with you, Lizzy."

The door closed behind her, she turned to ask her mother what she was about but she was not there. She slowly returned her eyes to the odious man in front of her.

He held a single thistle in his hand which he offered her with the words:

"I have decided that you are my future wife."

Elizabeth was sure her heart would stop beating in share fright but when he elaborated on his ridiculous reasons to enter this doomed marriage, her heart reclaimed its previous pace. Calm before the storm as he droned on about his patroness' wishes and promised not to hold her Scottish ancestry against her like he had not been Scottish born and bred himself. He had settled for her in lieu of Jane since he had no interest in moving to the Scottish Highland, for Jane or any other female.

Elizabeth declined politely when the maelstrom of obscure reasons to marry, paused for a breath of fresh air.

The nitwit did not take no for an answer and made up some ridiculous notion of elegant females wanting to increase the suspense of their suitor by declining their first offer.

He had the guts to step closer to her and reach for her hand.

Elizabeth locked both her hands on her back while the buffoon loomed a foot over her. His breath was foul and she took a step back from him and bumped into the wall.

"I assure you, I am not the kind of female who would torment a respectable man for sport. When I say no, I mean it under no uncertain terms. Good day, Mr Collins."

She turned the handle and opened the door that was not closed but had been left slightly ajar.

Her mother and two younger sisters stumbled into the room.

"Foolish, headstrong girl. You will marry Mr Collins."

Elizabeth took a calming breath before she replied: "I will not."

Her mother clutched her breast in a theatrical performance of wounded sensitivities.

"You most certainly will! Wait until your father hears of this..."

"He cannot make me!"

Elizabeth became aware of their audience a little too late to prohibit them from making a spectacle of themselves.

Not only were their house guests present but the MacBingley clan had come for an early visit to their recovering son.

"If you do not marry Mr Collins, I will never speak to you again."

"Fine, I am not that fond of talking. A little quietness would set me up nicely."

"How dare you speak to your mother like this?"

The slap resonated across the great hall, in front of their guests, including Mr Darcy. She was a grown woman, not a toddler to correct.

Elizabeth's thinly worn patience snapped. She clenched and unclenched her fists whilst she fought for calmness but it deserted her entirely when her father entered the scene.

"What is all this ruckus about, so early in the morning, in front of our guests, no less? Elizabeth, I expect better of you."

"I will never marry him! I will never marry any man for that matter. I will be spinster aunt to Jane's ten children, teach them to ride and play the pianoforte very ill indeed."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the keep, but she did not stop at the yard. Her determined strides continued over the bridge to the mainland whilst her braid whipped her back in indignation.

"Are you heading to England? May I offer to transport you, at least as far as the northern counties."

A deep baritone addressed her from behind.

She lengthened her strides but she was chanceless in outpacing him.

"No, thank you! You may turn your offer to Mr Collins, I would not mind if _he_ was in England..."

"Consider it done. I am certain he would not refuse the nephew of his beloved patroness."

A tinkle of laughter escaped her despite her furious state.

"It is a lovely thought, Mr Darcy, but they are probably busy planning my wedding as we speak. I am sure they would convince you to postpone for a day, making the effort mute."

Darcy's heart pounded painfully in his chest. Would she welcome an offer from another man? _I will never marry any man..._ The words resonated in his mind. Could she be serious or were the words spoken in anger?

"You do not believe that your father will support your decision?"

"I think we both know, Mr Darcy, that I have little choice in the matter, my vehement objections notwithstanding. This juvenile protest of mine is likely to be my last mischief."

'Not if I can help it!' Mr Darcy thought.

"I will leave you to your adventure, Miss Elizabeth. Goodbye!"

Mr Darcy bowed deeply and headed back to the keep.

If it was anything he could do for his Highland siren, it would be done.

He had imagined himself to have time to woo her and hopefully change her opinion of him but none of that mattered if she was Mrs Collins...

When Elizabeth returned, late in the evening, Eilean Bennet Castle was suspiciously quiet.

The MacBingley clan had returned home, save for Charles who was keeping his injured brother company. Campbell was doing well but the remaining headache made it unwise to travel. Charles did not mind and continued his attentions towards Jane. Jane was the only MacBennet Campbell could stomach, she was therefor allowed into the infirmary as long as she was well chaperoned. Campbell took no chances with a MacBennet, regardless of her obvious affection for his brother. Lady MacBennet was widely known for her ardour towards marrying off her daughters.

Mr Collins had left and with him Mr Darcy. He had received an express, urging him to his noble aunt, at Rosings Park in Kent, to attend an emergency. Elizabeth hoped it was nothing dire since the journey alone would take more than a week, about the same time the message had taken to deliver. Her suspicions were confirmed when she discovered that no rider with any kind of message had arrived at Eilean Bennet Castle on this day. He must have done it for her but why? She had accepted his apology, twice. Perhaps he was _three times is the charm_ kind of man.

His leave-taking had left a hollow in her heart. He had been her first brush with infatuation, regardless of the brevity of the sentiment. A brief sojourn with insanity, quickly quenched by the man himself...

It was more than that though, Elizabeth reluctantly admitted, at least, to herself.

A new emotion had enticed its way into her heart. An undefinable craving had settled in her chest.

*Retained fetal membrane, a common condition appearing 2-10% of all broodmares after 12-14 hours of foaling. (the horse)

*Whilst the highlanders added _Mac_ before a Christian name, the lowlanders added _son_ after the Christian name, to create their surname. I imagine Mr Collins was ashamed of his Scottish roots (he was not a wise man) and therefore changed his surname from Collinson to Collins to hide his ancestry...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Elizabeth's Adventure**

_Scottish blessing: _

_If there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world._

Campbell recovered and went back to the MacBingley keep but his brother kept visiting Eilean Bennet as often as feasible. Courting Jane as a proper suitor would.

Charles MacBingley might not be the one to rely upon during an emergency but his head for business was sharp.

The MacBingleys were widely known for their _uisge-beatha_. With the leeway of the taxes in the highlands compared to the lowlands, it was a lucrative business for the MacBingleys. The taxation laws were complex, leaving it unclear how much should be paid which the Highland magistrate chose to interpret in the most lenient way possible.

It did not complicate matters that the Loch Tay distillery was supplying none other than the Prince of Wales, who was soon to become regent himself, with the umber liquid.

It utilized the excess grain in the area which even the MacBennets benefitted from. Selling their grain to the distillery produced the highest profit as well as it served Mr Campbell, Fiona MacBennet's brother with whiskey of the finest quality London could provide. Mr Campbell had not followed in his father's footsteps and become a blacksmith. He had been educated and had tried his hand in trade with great success. Marrying an English lass with a dowry had been wise on many fronts. He had utilized the money they had put together, to build up a prosperous business that now included several warehouses in Cheapside, as proof of his success.

The forge was still in the family as their eldest sister had married a blacksmith that has taken over their father's legacy.

The Campbell clan resided closer to the sea than the MacBennet clan.

His forge was situated close to a busy port that made him an extra income in marrying off English elopers that came by sea. Evading Lord Hardwicke's marriage act from 1753.

A balmy morning in the beginning of August, Charles MacBingley announced that he had to travel to London to negotiate with some potential new customers.

It was a long journey and the matter might take some time to resolve, he would probably be gone for months. He had no intention of traversing it alone though, he wanted company in the form of a wife.

There, in the great hall of Eilean Castle, Charles Bingley proposed to his hearts choice. There, in front of all and sundry, she accepted. The joy was shared by all, only Elizabeth new the cost. Although it had been mostly her pride that had suffered...

Lady MacBingley had cornered her in a moment of inattentiveness. Wool-gathering was a new past-time Elizabeth had taken up over the summer. Her days seemed like a succession of nothingness. Nothing held her interest or stirred her enthusiasm.

It left her vulnerable to conniving ladies like Maggie MacBingley who had ambushed her in a field while she was picking flowers, wondering if her bouquet resembled the one a certain gentleman had picked...

The great lady had informed her that Charles had asked her for his grandmother's wedding ring to propose to his future wife. Lady MacBingley had misplaced the valuable gold-ring with a large ruby, encircled by several diamonds. She was convinced that the ring would resurface if a certain young lady would apologise for her ten-year-old offence against her son, in public...

Elizabeth had not mulled over it long, she would never stand in the way of her sister's happiness, a little public humiliation notwithstanding.

The humbling experience had taken place a few days prior to the proposal. Lady MacBingley had conveniently invited the MacBennets to supper.

Before the dessert, Elizabeth had risen and addressed her audience. She had turned towards Campbell but mentally she had imagined Mr Darcy. He had, sort of, apologised twice, she should do no less. Despite the fact that he was not there to receive it, he had made a great contribution towards forming her apology.

"_Campbell, I owe you an apology for an offence, ten years overdue. There are no words who could suffice, I dare not attempt it. What could possibly atone for the awful act of shooting you in your hindquarters with an arrow? I have practised diligently, to prohibit it from ever happening again. I am sure you are relieved to hear my aim has improved vastly since that dreadful day."_

Elizabeth did not mention that he had dared her to do exactly that. It was technically not her fault that it had hurt more than he had expected. Nor did she mention that it had all been a ruse for him to avoid bathing.

Campbell had surmised that a wound would prevent him from that endeavour. Both should have known better but Campbell had turned on her like the snake he was. Making it look like it was all her fault. Elizabeth had explained countless of times, exactly what happened but none had believed her. Not her father who had been worried the MacBingley distillery would no longer buy his excess grain if they had a fallout. A worry that proved unwarranted as the feud between the matrons had done nothing of the sort.

Maggie had been her mother's best friend at the time, despite their bickering about who were of more consequence.

Jane blamed no one and her younger sisters were too young to understand.

As soon as Campbell had healed, Elizabeth had visited with the intent of offering the much sought after apology but she had not managed to utter a word before Campbell bore down on her. Pulling her braid and calling it a carrot before he mocked her dirty countenance. Elizabeth had been livid and refused to beg him to excuse her. Lady MacBingley had not been impressed. Further offences had added to her dislike and when the final blow-up came between the matrons, Elizabeth had been more relieved than disheartened.

The wedding was held in a week. The trip to London had somewhat hastened the event but there were no reasons to postpone because Lady MacBennet had greatly anticipated the event. It was the time of year that offered a bounty of fresh produce from the forest, the lake and the land while ale had already been brewed, just in case...

Elizabeth had a particular reason to be pleased besides her sister's happiness and the succession of Eilean Bennet with an heir for the position of laird. Charles had agreed to take the MacBennet name when he inherited the title of laird, securing the future of the ancient clan.

Elizabeth had been invited to join the newlyweds as the bride's particular companion. Charles foresaw long hours of negotiations and wanted to ensure his bride was not bored when he was away. The torn in this pretty picture was Campbell, who was tagging along as well. Compliments from his mother who could deny her youngest son nothing. She secretly hoped he would find a wealthy heiress with a large estate... London offered more opportunities to meet wealthy heiresses than the Scottish Highland could provide.

The prospect of having her castle to herself was probably tempting as well. Lochlan and Catriona was travelling with them but were taking their own carriage. None of their conveyances could comfortably seat six over such a lengthy journey.

Distance is nothing when one has a motive... Elizabeth had a multitude of reasons, foremost, it was the relief of escaping her mother's constant lamentation on the marriage that did _not_ happen. Her father did nothing to curb her incessant wailing on the subject. Fiona had themed up with her cousin Maggie against Lizzy after the apology had made the matrons thick as thieves again.

She could stomach Campbell's wry mouth to her mother's constant disappointed bemoaning's.

She had the lure of London, a town she had never visited, and the inducement of calling upon her favourite relations with her most beloved sister. She would miss the Highlands though...

Elizabeth was fully aware of the restraints the English society put upon young maidens, her aunt Campbell had thought them well when they had visited her in Lambton before the Campbells had moved to London. They were approaching the quaint village when Charles announced he had a surprise install for them. They were not boarding at the Rose And Crown for the night but at a nearby estate. A burning lump formed at the pit of Elizabeth's stomach. She recollected a brief meeting with a grand lady at the Lambton haberdasher with her aunt Campbell. The memory of the introduction to the beautiful and kind Lady Anne was vague but she wondered if that was the estate they were visiting or if it might be the estate of another Derbyshire acquaintance of Mr MacBingley?

Campbell smiled broadly, it irked her that he obviously knew where they were headed while she did not.

"Perhaps we should leave Lizzy at the Rose and Crown, her peasant ways might offend our host," Campbell droned. Elizabeth sent him a look that could freeze Loch Tay.

"Yes, that would make your brother look well in exalted company. To leave his sister unchaperoned at a busy Inn. I wonder who is the least educated in decorum..."

Campbell scowled at her while Jane sent them an exasperated look that made them both revert back to silence.

It dawned on Elizabeth why Jane had insisted on lending Lizzy her maid. She usually dressed herself and made her own hair, too impatient to wait for the maid they all shared. Her coiffure and gown were done up compared to her usual style. She continued to ponder on the question of their host but would not give Campbell the satisfaction of proving her ignorance by asking.

The carriage turned off the main road. The roof was down and massive, ancient oaks towered over their heads. Some of them so large that it would take several men to encircle them with their arms.

A flock of deer thundered past them through the woods. Elizabeth was anxious they would wear off track and cross the path in front of their carriage but fortunately, they turned deeper into the forest.

She saw their surroundings brighten before the woodland opened up to the most beautiful scenery she had ever beheld. A white Palladian house stood majestically at the rise of a hill, admiring its own reflection in a lake with an elegant fountain in its midst. She could not suppress the gasp that left her mouth. It was breathtakingly gorgeous.

A feeling of inadequacy followed, she did not belong in this setting. She was a Highland lass, not an aristocratic heiress. She would rather eat her bonnet before she admitted any sense of inferiority before Campbell though.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin, it was only for one night. She would brave it for a short duration...

The carriage came to halt below a large patio with dual staircases leading up to it. Footsteps could be heard descending rapidly but the owner could not be seen. It became apparent to Elizabeth that there were more than one set of steps, one light and one heavy tread could be distinguished. Charles alighted and aided his bride. Campbell followed but he made no gesture towards Elizabeth. She gathered her book from the seat beside her and scooted to the edge of the seat to manage the steps by her self when a large, gloved hand materialised before her. Her eyes followed the forearm of the hand to the elbow, noticed the muscular form of the upper arm to the shoulder and the pristine, elaborately tied cravat. The mouth above the cravat was curled in a crooked half-smile. The nose above was straight but the eyes, the eyes were captivating liquid pools of deep-sea blue. The corners crinkled in amusement which alerted Elizabeth to close her mouth and avert her eyes. Her eyes were arrested by the tall, elegant blond that had followed Mr Darcy down the stairs.

"Welcome to Pemberley, Miss Elizabeth. May I introduce you to my sister, Miss Georgiana?"

Elizabeth's mouth widened into a brilliant smile towards the lady that at closer inspection was a rather young girl who had reached her height but not her maturity.

The smile brought the girl forward.

Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and took Mr Darcy's proffered arm. He guided her to her sister who smiled shyly at the newcomer.

"Welcome to Pemberley, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth let go of Mr Darcy's arm and reached for the young girl's hands.

"Thank you, Georgiana. I will make an effort to look like I belong in such splendour but I must admit that your house looks rather intimidating."

Georgiana giggled. "You should see my aunt, Lady Catherine's house, it is a gothic monstrosity with a formidable lady at the head of the table. It practically makes me shiver just thinking about it."

"Are you intimidated by your aunt, Georgiana?"

The girl nodded and Elizabeth took her arm and leaned in to whisper clandestinely in her ear.

"My father told me that if I find someone intimidating, I should picture them naked. Most people would look ridiculous without their garments..."

"Surely, you do not look ridiculous, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, I most certainly do. I look like tar has rained on me. I have freckles all over, it is a curse I have to bear though. I have tried to no avail to scrub them off but they are stuck like a burr to woollen skirts."

Georgiana laughed and the ladies headed up the stairs, leaving a bewildered brother in their wake.

"Are you sure, Mr Darcy, that it is wise to let a MacBennet influence your sister. You have met their mother..."

"Yes!" Mr Darcy announced with finality, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with his sister.

Campbell smirked. Mr Darcy seemed to be in an awful lot of hurry for someone without a worry...

The tea was held as soon as the travellers had washed off the road dust. Elizabeth stood still, listening for voices who could direct her to the dining room when Campbell found her.

"You should not flirt so openly with the master of Pemberley, Lizzy. He is engaged to his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. A beautiful, accomplished lady with a fifty thousand pounds dowry. His only interest in you would be to have a liaison, as these great men are prone to have with those of lesser consequence."

"I am not..." Elizabeth started to reply but Campbell was not interested in anything she might have to say. He was walking away which left the waylaid Elizabeth with not much choice but to follow. She was fuming, what nerve that nitwit had. She had not been flirting, far from hit...

Campbell strode into the dining room, seating himself beside Georgiana, leaving Elizabeth the seat between himself and Mrs Ainsley, Georgiana's companion. Elizabeth saw the subtle disappointment in Georgiana's eyes. Elizabeth wondered if the seat had been left open for herself and sent Georgiana a warm smile.

The dining room was balmy, basking in the afternoon sun. The weather had been fortunate for travelling, especially in the Highlands where it rarely got uncomfortably warm. She had read in her aunt's many letters that London could be unbearably hot at this time of year and wondered if it was something akin to what she was experiencing at Pemberley at this very moment. The house was situated in a dale in between low hills, protected against the wind which left not even a small breeze to be had. The windows had been left open but with no wind, it did not afford much relief from the heat.

The meal was lovely though and the conversation flowed effortlessly around the table.

Elizabeth directed most of her attention towards Georgiana, sensing the young girl's unease to the marked attention Campbell was lavishing upon her.

When the meal ended, Elizabeth walked to the open window in the hope of catching even the smallest puff of air. Her eyes were arrested by a strange building on the top of the four hundred feet ridge behind the house.

"Oh, what a quaint little castle on the ridge."

Georgiana came up beside her and followed her gaze. She let out a low chuckle.

"That is our hunting tower. It was completed in 1582 by the famous architect Robert Smythson for Bess of Hardwick."

"Really? My father only has a small cabin on the moor but nothing so elaborate or as intriguing as this. It is gorgeous, could we explore it? There might be a little breeze to be had at the top if we are lucky."

Georgiana nodded and linked her arm with Elizabeth's.

"It sounds delightful."

The other ladies were invited to join them while she deliberately excluded the gentlemen. Catriona, who were increasing, chose not to brave the steep rise while Jane offered to keep her company. Likely for the same reason as Catriona.

Mr Darcy suggested a trip to his well-stocked river to the gentlemen and they all complied. There was usually, a light, cooling draft by the river and fishing was not an arduous task.

Georgiana and Elizabeth set out a brisk pace but the hill was a little steeper up close than it had looked from afar. They adjusted their pace to a more leisurely pace until they arrived at the hunting tower. There was not much breeze there either. The tall pine trees fended off what could have been.

Georgiana had had the forethought of bringing the key. She unlocked the door and they ascended the spiralling staircase to the top of one of the towers. To enjoy the stunning view in four directions, of Capability Brown's Park.

Elizabeth noticed a cliff with little verdure, it looked very promising towards the breeze she so desperately craved. Even more so now, after climbing the steep hill. She pointed it out to Georgiana and she readily acquiesced to Elizabeth's desire.

Georgiana was starting to show signs of fatigue. Elizabeth berated herself for not taking into account that her younger companion probably had less experience in walking long distances. She lagged behind, Elizabeth offered her to sit and wait on a fallen log while Elizabeth climbed to the top of the cliff. It served no purpose for Georgiana to exert herself if the cliff was as balmy as the rest of the woods. It would be better for them to cool down in the faint drizzle from the cascading waterfall than another fruitless climb.

Elizabeth reached the summit with sweat trickling down her forehead, eliciting a sting as the droplets reached her eyes. She rummaged blindly through her pocket for her kerchief, dabbed her eyes and wiped her forehead. She could hear a commotion and loud shouting, followed by a big splash or was it several?

Anxiously, she opened her eyes and peered over the cliff. A little apprehensive to what scene might be unravelling before her.

Whatever she had expected, the exhibition she witnessed was not of a nature she could have imagined. Grown men frolicking in the river below, splashing water and pushing each other under the water. One of them managed to pull one of the others under the surface and retreated hurriedly from retaliation by swimming away. A pale hindquarter surfaced, followed by crawling arms.

"Oh my goodness," Elizabeth whispered to no one in particular. The derriere of the man was clearly unclothed, as was the rest of the foursome by her second clandestine glance.

The mischief-maker climbed upon a rock, just below the surface. Pointed towards his bewildered victims and guffawed.

She would have recognised the deep baritone anywhere. He did not laugh long before three men swam towards him with vengeance in mind. He stood up on the rock and dived into the water in one fluent motion. Elizabeth gasped, turned and ran down the rocky cliff to the safety of Georgiana.

"Was it worth the effort?" Georgiana inquired as soon as Elizabeth was within earshot.

"Definitely not! If possible, it was even hotter at the top." Elizabeth was quick to discourage Georgiana from any notion of following her trail.

"What took you so long?"

"I got sweat in my eyes, I could not see a thing. I had to find my kerchief without looking and wipe my eyes before I could brave the steep descent. I implore you not to attempt it."

Georgiana gasped, her hand flew to her mouth while she shook her head vehemently.

The two new friends rested for a spell on the log, as Elizabeth was quite winded before they embarked on the descent. It was much faster and more manageable to track down than it had been going up. Convenient as both ladies were done in by the time they reached the rose garden.

Georgiana hailed a gardener to fetch them a large jug of lemonade and two glasses while they rested upon a shaded, wooden hanging seat with room for two.

The lemonade was delivered promptly and the relief of having their thirst slackened, the house within close proximity together with their exhaustion made them giddy. They giggled and rocked the swinging seat lazily back and forth while they gulped down several glasses of the delicious lemonade.

"This was my mother's and father's favourite respite in the summer, or so I have been told..."

Elizabeth looked at the young lady that had suddenly turned serious.

"Were you very young when your parents passed?" Elizabeth had heard no mention of a senior Mr Darcy or Mrs Darcy and felt it safe to surmise that they were no longer amongst them.

"I was when my mother died. I was barely born but my father passed three years ago when I was eleven."

Elizabeth took Georgiana's hand and enveloped it in her own. "It must have been so difficult to lose your parents at such a young age."

Georgiana sat staring unseeingly into the distance. "Yes, but I had my brother. Without him, I would have been utterly lost. He really is the best brother I could possibly have been blessed with. Always put my needs before his own, there is nothing he would not do to ensure my comfort. I only wish..." The sentence was never finished as Georgiana seemed to fall into deep thought.

"What would you wish?" Elizabeth prodded but Georgiana just looked at her wistfully.

"You can tell me, Georgiana. I have four sisters, there is nothing you can tell me that would shock me or make me think less of you. We are allowed to have dreams and wishes, regardless of our station in life."

"I wish I would not have to go back to the seminar in the autumn..." Georgiana whispered.

"Perhaps I could trade place with you. Campbell seems to think I need to be educated in proper comportment and decorum. I like to learn, I am sure I would be enjoying the experience ."

"I am sure you would not..."

Elizabeth grabbed both of Georgiana's hands and looked her deeply in the eyes, searching for her meaning.

"The other ladies are quite cruel. I am not pretty or accomplished, neither am I a member of the peerage."

Elizabeth was appalled. "You cannot be serious. You are the most accomplished lady I have ever even heard of!

You are tall, willowy and stunningly beautiful with your long, lovely golden locks and gorgeous blue eyes. Besides, you are the daughter of a lady and the niece of an Earl. That surely must account for something... Are there only members of the aristocracy at your school?"

Georgiana chuckled mirthlessly. "No, most are of lesser standing than myself but I am competition towards the few exalted bachelors that are to be had for the untitled ladies. I have a larger dowry which gives me an advantage the other ladies are eager to nullify. I am not particularly accomplished, I excel at the pianoforte. Too much, according to the other ladies at the seminar. They accuse me of being the recipient of unfair special treatment and for being the master's favourite since he knows my aunt, Lady Catherine.

Most of all, I am far from beautiful. I wish I had your lovely red hair..."

"Oh no, you do not. The ladies would have pulled your braids and called you a carrot or inquired if you wanted them to put out the fire on your head. Believe me, red hair is not something you should covet. You should thank your lucky star that you were born with lovely fair hair instead."

"I suppose I just want a friend of my own. Someone to confide in or ask questions one cannot address to a brother, no matter his excellent other qualities. I have not bonded with any of the other ladies. There is no one there that would suit."

"I am very happy if you would like to be _my_ friend Georgiana. I will not be at your seminar but I am diligent correspondent. I guess there will be some new ladies at the seminar come autumn as well. Perhaps one of them might be a better match for you?"

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I had not thought of that. I would be very happy if you would write to me, even if there is a new girl that might be a friend at the seminar."

"You certainly can, Georgiana. I will send you a letter, as soon as I arrive at Gracechurch Street, with the particulars so you can respond to my long and elaborate narrative of travelling in the summer."

"I still wish that brother would marry so I could stay at home..." Georgiana's voice had grown faint. Elizabeth cast her a worried look.

Georgiana's eyelids were drooping precariously towards her cheeks. It was obvious that she would soon be asleep. Elizabeth felt a pang in her chest. The afternoon's excursion had been too arduous for the young girl. She should have thought about it before they set out. Well, it did little good, dwelling on matters that could not be altered. She could ponder the future though... What she could do to make Mr Darcy aware of his sister's struggles at the seminar without breaking her confidence in the process?

"Miss Elizabeth?"

A lock of hair was lifted from her countenance and tucked behind her ear. She waved the intruder away but did not open her eyes. She shifted slightly and tucked her hands further under her cheek.

She became vaguely aware of something heavy on her legs with extra pressure on her hipbone.

Elizabeth released one of her hands from under her head and felt around. Hair... She quirked an eyebrow but the eyelid was not willing to follow. She sighed, sat up as Georgiana's head dropped off her hip and startled her awake.

"I am sorry, Georgiana! I must have dozed off so I did not realise that you were resting on my legs. Did you injure yourself."

"No, I am well. Embarrassed, but well."

"Why would you be embarrassed. We both deserved a little rest after I hauled you up to the hunting tower in the heat of summer. You should hit me over the head, should I ever suggest such a ridiculous scheme in the future."

Elizabeth mouth was dry and woolly, where was that lemonade when you desperately needed it?

Go figures, at the feet of someone tall and looming. She did not need to look up to recognise the owner of the large Hessian booths...

"Imagine my surprise, finding two sleeping beauties in my rose garden.

I was ready to send out a search party for the two elopers when a gardener appraised me of the unusual sculpture that had appeared in my garden."

Mr Darcy had a soft smile grazing his lips as he benignly scolded the well-rested ladies.

"Supper is about to be served, I may hold it for a few minutes..."

Elizabeth snorted, "a few minutes will hardly suffice. I smell like a horse..."

"Me too," Georgiana giggled. She had never met a lady who spoke quite so honestly on subjects that did not put herself in a favourable light. She had Lady Catherine, who's frankness was well known, although her candour did not include her own flaws.

"What have you two been up to?"

"We walked to the hunting tower to enjoy the view but we hoped there would be a breeze on the top of the ridge. It has been rather balmy today..."

"Were you able to cool down?" Darcy's soft smile turned into a definite smirk.

"Not at all," Georgiana complained, followed by a heavy sigh.

Darcy chuckled, he could have told them before they started that climbing a steep hill would not cool you off. Since they both looked like they had enjoyed themselves, he did not have the heart to enlighten them. He gestured for the ladies to lead on whilst he followed sedately, studying Elizabeth's toned legs in the slightly transparent, pale green, muslin gown. A flash of recognition entered his mind, had Elizabeth been at the top of the cliff? He had to find out.

Elizabeth and Georgiana managed to refresh themselves within half an hour and supper was held until they entered the dining room.

Georgiana found her seat at the opposite side of Darcy while Elizabeth was left with the only other available chair, at Mr Darcy's right side.

Walking and sleeping had worked up an appetite in Elizabeth, she was not shy when she helped herself. She gave up every pretence of being a light eater when the sweetmeat was served, chocolate... Rich, dark, delicious chocolate that melted on the tongue and flowed like velvet down her throat. She fought not to moan at the delectable flavour when the conversation took a turn that made her want to moan for an entirely different reason.

"We had a lovely swim in the river today, you should have found a stream to cool down in instead of climbing the steep hill, Georgiana."

Darcy addressed his sister but kept his eyes on Elizabeth. Yes, there was a definite reddening of her countenance that spread down her neck towards her décolletage. Interesting...

Elizabeth coughed and took a large gulp of wine.

"Yes, I remember the waterfall with a small pool at the bottom. Perfect depth for a little girl to learn how to swim." Georgiana gushed, looking dreamily at the pleasurable memory.

"Can you swim, Miss Elizabeth?"

It was a perfectly innocent question but Elizabeth narrowed her green, blue and silver eyes at him.

"Aye... You may have noticed that the Eilean Bennet Castle is indeed on an island. It was more an occasion of learning by default than any conscious understanding involved."

Jane laughed merrily at Elizabeth's description.

"I remember father refused Camkirk to rescue you when you fell into the loch for the, I do not know, hundredth time? Camkirk was frantic with worry but you figured it out and hauled yourself ashore. From that day you were only rescued if you wore a heavy woollen gown."

"Aye, I vaguely remember drowning when the Loch Tay monster gave me a back to stand on and swam me ashore."

"Lizzy, someone might believe you." Jane admonished softly.

"Were you always troublesome as a child?"

Darcy asked Elizabeth but Campbell replied.

"She was, still is, one might say. Took her ten years to apologise for shooting me with an arrow."

"Thank you for being so forgiving Campbell," Elizabeth replied, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

*Uisge-beatha: Whiskey in Scottish Gaelic.

*Taxation laws and the history of distilleries (Glenturret distillery- Wikipedia)

*Hunting tower situated at Chatsworth. I have used Chatsworth for visualising Pemberley although it is not always described accurately, I add or remove features as it suits my story. (Chatsworth cottages)

*Lancelot Brown 1715-1783, commonly known as Capability Brown was a landscape architect who designed more than 170 parks, of many who have endured. He is remembered as _England's greatest gardener _and he designed the Park that can still be seen at Chatsworth today.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 London Days**

To Elizabeth's astonishment, a fourth carriage joined their convoy to the south. Mr Darcy and Georgiana was going to London to order Georgiana a new wardrobe while Mr Darcy had appointments with his banker and attorney.

Georgiana begged Elizabeth to join her in their carriage. Campbell was unceremoniously dumped in Lochlan's and Catriona's carriage to allow the newlyweds a day of twosome travel.

The last carriage held their servants and additional luggage.

Elizabeth whispered a few pointed words in her sister's ear and winked at Charles before she boarded the Darcy carriage, leaving a crimson sister behind. Mr Darcy had been watching the exchanged and had a fairly good idea of the direction of the whispered words. He made himself as comfortable as he could with his long legs and addressed Elizabeth

"Been long since your last dip in the loch, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth blushed furiously but when she saw the mischief in his eyes, she decided that two could play that game.

"Approximately a week, I would say... Although I have learned my lesson, I never go for a swim in heavy gowns anymore. How about you, Mr Darcy, has it been long since you had a dip in the lake?" She circumvented mentioning the river deliberately. He did not even blink an eye.

"Yes, I never swim in gowns." Omitting the question entirely.

Infuriating man, Elizabeth thought while Georgiana felt a little left out of the conversation, she did not fully understand.

"Tell me about when you shot Campbell, Elizabeth?"

"Georgiana," Darcy warned but Elizabeth waved it off. She did not mind telling the story and left nothing out. The truth and dare game where she had chosen dare, Campbell's horrible suggestion including the bow and arrow. She owned up to her own culpability in the debacle and gave leniency to Campbell who had probably underrated the strength of an eight-year-old girl, shooting at close range.

Lady MacBingley who pushed for her apology but the contrary Elizabeth had flat out denied until they believed she was telling the truth. Lastly, she described the quarrel between Lady MacBingley and her mother which was by circumvention, also her fault. In the midst of a heated debate of Elizabeth's lacking apology, Lady MacBingley had uttered the infamous words: _Jane's beauty cannot countervail for having such a hoyden for sister, she is not that braw._ Lady MacBennet had slapped Lady MacBingley and the break between the distant cousins had been a reality. The lairds had wisely stayed out of the debacle and continued on as nothing was a matter.

To Elizabeth's astonishment, the Darcy siblings seemed to believe her...

A rather lengthy midday break had been added to their travels as trotting in the gruelling heat of summer were taxing on the horses.

Elizabeth did not mind, she had travelled very little so even an Inn by the road held her interest.

Travelling with the Darcy siblings turned out to be no hardship at all. Georgiana insisted that Elizabeth travelled in their carriage for the rest of the journey which had the benefit of being Campbell free, despite his efforts to the contrary. Darcy pretended not to understand his insinuations towards an invitation to ride in their carriage.

Mr Darcy kept quiet, leaving most of the talking to the ladies but what he did contribute was noteworthy.

Georgiana, who had never had any close female relations of her own age, begged Elizabeth to share a room with her at the inns. Elizabeth happily complied with the scheme, she had no wish to experience the wonders of travel on her own. Their late-night conversations, reliving the day, tired and giddy was the highlight of the journey.

The Darcys had to make a detour to Gracechurch Street in order to deliver Elizabeth to her aunt and uncle.

Jane and Charles went directly to Mr MacBingley's townhouse. Elizabeth would join them there in a about a week but she had chosen to give the newlyweds the luxury of some privacy first. In addition, her aunt had promised to help her select some new gowns.

Aunt Madeline Campbell took one look at Elizabeth's forest green gown and wrinkled her brows.

"Elizabeth Vivienne MacBennet, you know very well you should not wear such dark colours before you are married. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Oh, I know but the pastels doesn't suit me."

"Does not."

"Just what I said."

"No, I meant it is does not, not doesn't. I have my work cut out for me, I see. A week may not be enough to turn your Highland ways into appropriate English lady..."

Elizabeth groaned while her travelling companions alighted from the carriage and followed behind her towards the entrance.

"I am perfectly content with my Highland ways, thank you very much." Elizabeth felt affronted, this was not her loving aunt from the letters and the visits from years back.

She entered her aunt's house with some apprehension.

"You do not know?"

"Know what?"

"Your mother has expressively forbidden you to return to Scotland before you have married. We need to find someone who does not mind a little Highland blood in his offspring, a small dowry and low connections..."

"My father?"

"He has generously provided the necessary funds for your new gowns."

Sometimes life consisted merely of clenching one's teeth, waiting for better days, Elizabeth thought despairingly. A throat cleared behind her, she had entirely forgotten about the Darcy siblings. How much had they overheard? Elizabeth turned but she could read nothing on their countenances. She plastered a smile on her face and introduced her travelling companions to her aunt.

"This is Fitzwilliam and Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. My aunt, Mrs Campbell."

The whistle blew an entirely different tune after the name of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Pemberley had been mentioned.

They were given a hearty welcome and were invited into the parlour for tea and refreshments. They politely declined but inquired if they could call the next day, preferably in the afternoon since their morning was filled with appointments.

Mrs Campbell's was conflicted, she and her niece had a lot to accomplish and not much time to achieve it. In addition, Mr Darcy was an unusually handsome man. It was vital that her niece's head was not turned in an unachievable direction. It might make their assigned task a lot harder. They might even be saddled with her for the rest of her life which suited the expecting Mrs Campbell, not at all. With a fifth child on the way, she was not looking for more outlays. Mr Campbell had done very well for himself but schooling was expensive and it might very well be a third son she was carrying, not that a dowry was any less costly than schooling. Her children would not suffer the fate of the MacBennet daughters who were handed out to anyone who would take them. Mrs Campbell was not impressed by her new sister, Lady of the Castle or not.

She scrutinized Elizabeth's countenance she was smiling but her gaze was turned towards the wife who returned her smile. Mr Darcy had a soft smile on his countenance as well, directed towards his wife. No reason to worry it would seem...

On the other hand, hosting the renowned Mr Darcy and his wife for dinner, might set her up nicely towards her friends. She could almost hear their stunned gasps when she related the news. She could not let such an opportunity drain through her fingers.

The marriage must have been very recent since she had heard nothing about it. She could probably boast of being the first to host the new Mrs Darcy.

Mrs Campbell turned on her charm and smiled brightly to her guests.

"Certainly, Mr Darcy. We are very busy as well, would it be too forward of me to postpone your visit to supper?"

"I would be delighted."

Had he not understood that the invitation was for the both of them? This would not do...

"I am sorry if I expressed myself a little clumsily just now. The invitation included your wife."

If Elizabeth had not gasped, the expression on Mr Darcy's countenance spoke volumes. She had somehow misspoke...

"I accept on behalf of my _sister_ and myself, Mrs Campbell." Mr Darcy answered in a clipped tone, accentuating the word sister while Miss Darcy looked like a giggle was fought back.

"I am so sorry I muddled up the introduction..." Elizabeth had at least the decency to look contrite for setting her up for such a blunder.

Luckily, the Darcy siblings were in a hurry to leave. Relieving Mrs Campbell from the awkwardness that had fallen upon them.

Elizabeth gave Miss Darcy a warm hug and thanked her sincerely for her excellent skills as a travelling companion while she gave Mr Darcy a swift curtsy before they left.

"Does Jane know?"

Elizabeth's impertinence surfaced as soon as the Darcys had left. She had obviously not forgotten their previous conversation.

"You would have to ask your father about that, Elizabeth. I do not know."

Mr Darcy had not eavesdropped on the entire conversation but the little he had heard gave him hope.

If she _had_ to marry, his offer might suit as well as any other.

He had hoped for a longer courtship, more time to change her opinion of him but he surmised that he had little more than a week before she had new gowns and her family would start escorting her to events around town. He was not of a mind to add competition to his travails.

He needed a moment of privacy to express his ardent admiration, hopefully, that would suffice. He had dinner arrangement for tomorrow night but the chance for privacy was slim to none. He could always enlist the Bingley's though, they might be able to aid him in his quest.

The Darcy siblings were travel-worn when they arrived at Darcy House. A swift meal was devoured before they retired to their chambers.

Darcy had a lot to ponder but sleep claimed him before he could reach any conclusion.

The next day he concentrated on speaking with his attorney.

He did not address the investments he wanted him to look into but chose to give him directions for his marriage settlement. A draft was made with the sums he wanted, the attorney would write the final papers.

Darcy wondered if the Laird had given Mr Campbell free pass to hitch his daughter to anyone he deemed appropriate or if he had a final say in giving his consent. The laws of marriage were different in England compared to the Scottish laws. He wondered if Laird MacBennet was aware of his daughter being underage in England? Lord Hardwicke's marriage act was widely known but...

The dinner at the Campbell resident had been pleasurable but fruitless. His impression of Mr Campbell was favourable, he even considered investing in his business. He would have to ask Charles. His knowledge in the matter vastly excelled his own.

Miss Elizabeth looked tired though, perhaps she had been shopping all day, standing about being poked and prodded. Better not let his thoughts venture too far in that direction, Elizabeth clothed merely in her chemise...

The next day, he had an appointment with his banker. With his finances in order, he left to visit Bingley.

He picked up his sister on Bond Street, who had been shopping with Lady Matlock. A chore he happily left in the sensible lady's care. They were having Parmesan ices at Gunther's when he arrived. By the look on her countenance, it was not a great favourite.

"Brother!" Georgiana exclaimed happily as she looked up and noticed his presence. "Would you like some of my ice cream?"

"No, thank you." He answered a crooked smile grazed his countenance as hers fell by his negative response. The well-bred Georgiana would never admit she did not like the gift her aunt had bestowed upon her. She was saved by the more straightforward aunt though.

"Oh my, this is horrible. I do not care if it is all the fashion, I do not like this. Please feel free to eat it or leave it, Georgiana. I am done..."

Georgiana discreetly put the ice down and did not finish it but neither did she mention it. Darcy was proud of his sister, she always showed perfect comportment.

"I wondered if you would like to visit Mr and Mrs MacBingley with me? It has not been many days since last we saw them but I have some business affairs to discuss with him."

Georgiana's countenance lit up, leaving him in no doubt of her sentiments. His aunt was more sceptical.

"MacBingley? Is he the Scottish boy you went to Cambridge with?"

Yes, aunt but I would hesitate to call him a boy though. He has recently married a lady from a neighbouring estate, the Eilean Bennet Castle by Loch Tay.

"Married? He is barely twenty years old..."

"He is two and twenty, aunt Aubrey."

"Really? My sons are seven and twenty and thirty years old, Darcy. It is high time I got myself some grandchildren. I will have to remind them of their duty to their old mama."

Lady Aubrey's false modesty made Darcy release a low chuckle. There was nothing old about the feisty lady and she knew it. She was fishing for compliments and he was not about to indulge her.

"I have been wondering if it might be time to settle myself," Darcy mused absentmindedly. Lady Aubrey clenched her chest with both hands.

"Oh, I would love that. Next to my own sons, your and Georgiana's happiness is foremost in my mind. You are five and twenty with an estate who needs an heir. Besides, Georgiana needs a sister before she is to have her come out. The right lady would be of immense help during the first trying days."

She looked imploringly at Darcy. Willing him to succumb to the temptation of the benefits to married life.

"I could set you up with some of the debutants from this season. You have not been introduced to either of them with all your flicking about." She saw Darcy's face fall, understanding dawned on her. "You already have someone in mind, do you not. A highland fling?"

His aunt was just too perceptive, he would have to finish what he had started.

"Sort of..."

Georgiana beamed, she immediately understood who he was talking about.

"Anyone I know?" His aunt inquired.

"I doubt it. She is the daughter of a laird but her clan is small. Her mother is a Campbell though." He omitted the fact that she was the daughter of the blacksmith, not the laird.

"Lord Matlock has mentioned the Campbells to me. The Campbell Argyle Militia was instrumental in defeating the Jacobite's at the Battle of Culloden in 1746, were they not?"

"They were... We have to leave now aunt. Thank you for assisting Georgiana in her quest for beautiful gowns. I am certain you are of much greater assistance in this endeavour than I ever could."

"That we may agree upon, Darcy. I will see you on the morrow, Georgiana."

The Darcy siblings waved their aunt goodbye and rode to the MacBingley's townhouse. The knocker was up, despite it being their honeymoon so Darcy deemed it safe to visit. If it had been himself, he might not have been quite so sociable.

"Darcy! Georgiana! How nice to see you." One might think Charles had not seen his friend for months, let alone a few days but that was his way. His disposition being happy go lucky, most of the time...

"Have Elizabeth finished her shopping yet?" Georgiana inquired but Jane looked like a question mark.

"Shopping? Did you make an appointment with her when you delivered her in Gracechurch Street? She did not mention it to me..."

"Not exactly. I overheard her aunt mentioning that they were assigned with buying her new gowns from your father. I thought you might have gone shopping with them. I wondered because I am renewing my wardrobe before the seminar and I would not mind some company."

"I have not seen nor heard from Elizabeth. She insisted on staying with aunt and uncle for the first week in London and not bother us, as she called it."

Jane blushed which alerted Darcy to the nature of this agreement. He wondered if he should mention the rest of what he had overheard but could he trust Jane or was she a part of Elizabeth's estrangement from home? He could not say and opted to err on the safe side but he still needed to get a private audience with Elizabeth. He preferred to make his sentiments known to Elizabeth alone, giving her an option to decline that she might not be afforded if he approached her more publicly. How was he supposed to accomplish that if she did not visit her sister?

"Perhaps I could send her a note," Georgiana mused, more to herself than the rest of the room.

"A note was delivered, mam, for Miss Elizabeth. Should I give it to her or..."

Mrs Campbell interrupted her maid. "No, I am on my way to her room now. I can take it with me and for future notes, I will approve of them before she is to receive them. Do you understand?"

The maid nodded and scurried away. There was something off in the Campbell household. She could not quite put her finger on it but the atmosphere had altered and not for the better.

Mrs Campbell unfolded the brief note. Georgiana Darcy inquired if Elizabeth wanted to attend her at Madame Amélie or another Bond Street Modiste of her choosing, the next morning. She would pick her up in the Darcy carriage. The invitation extended to herself but it was the last sentence that made the mature Mrs Campbell almost giddy. Lady Matlock would accompany them.

What harm could it do? Meander through Bond Street with lady Matlock and Miss Darcy in broad daylight, perhaps have a cup of tea and some pastries at Gunther's? Mrs Campbell decided to add some of her own funds to be sure. It would not look good to Lady Matlock if they had to turn something down because their funds were too low. She considered it an investment in her husbands business. She was forming important connections here, that might become valuable in the future.

She had talked herself into accepting the invitation and therefore she went in search of Elizabeth, to give her the note. Elizabeth was delighted by the invitation and readily accepted. Mrs Campbell added a little invitation at the end of the note.

The shops on Bond Street was of another quality than Elizabeth was used to and so was the clientele. There was no squealing over a particular fine ribbon, there was very little show of emotion in any form, Elizabeth noticed and moulded her performance thereafter.

Lady Aubrey kept a keen eye on her, perhaps she was anxious that a Highlander did not know how to comport themselves? Elizabeth decided that she would not give the grand lady any reason to be embarrassed. She knew where she was.

They had a cup of tea, midday, but nothing substantial. Mrs Campbell had invited Georgiana and Lady Aubrey to Gracechurch Street when the fashionable hours were over.

At four o'clock, their party removed to Gracechurch street.

The ladies were having an enjoyable afternoon. The four Campbell children, ranging from ten to two in age had been allowed an audience at the expressed wishes of their guests.

Elizabeth had a wonderful time. If not for the threat of an unwanted marriage looming in the back of her mind, she would have been truly happy. The society ladies had treated her well, a compliment to Lady Aubrey but still.

Her aunt had not mentioned nor had she tried to introduce her to any potential candidates yet which made Elizabeth wonder if it had been some kind of tasteless jest from her aunt. If not for the extensive additions to her wardrobe, she might have believed her own musings.

The knocker resounded downstairs and the door was opened by the Campbell's manservant. A maid came into the parlour and announced Mr Darcy was there to escort his ladies home.

"Take your leave of Lady Aubrey and Miss Darcy, Elizabeth. I will escort them to the door."

Elizabeth did as she was told but wondered why she could not say goodbye at the door as she usually did.

Mrs Campbell had gotten over her first misconception that Mr Darcy was a married man. The clandestine looks and obvious ease between her niece and the illustrious landowner during supper had made her apprehensive. Not that she was concerned about anything of the matrimonial constitution but there were other forces of nature that a gentleman might entice and bestow upon a fanciful young girl.

The connection between them was undeniable, she was merely making sure that it did not develop into something more dangerous.

Mr Darcy had heard Mrs Campbell's suggestion to Elizabeth. He was not pleased, what could the lady be about? Surely she did not mind a wealthy gentleman like himself, wooing her niece? It was exactly what she had set out to accomplish.

Something smelled of foul play, much like his mood when he was denied even the merest glimpse of Elizabeth. He had a moment of enlightenment...

"Mrs Campbell, I wondered if you and your family would like to join us for dinner tomorrow? I have invited my aunt and uncle as well. Do you think your husband has some time to spare? I have a business proposition I would like to discuss with him and Miss Darcy would have the opportunity to say goodbye to her new friend. She is leaving for her seminar next week and will reside at my aunt's, the countess of Matlock until her day of departure. I will return to Pemberley in a few days which does not leave much time for negotiations..."

Mr Darcy let the implication hang in the air while he watched the emotions of benefits versus his detriments, battle over Mrs Campbell's countenance. In the end, her mercenary side won out which told Mr Darcy everything he needed to know about Mrs Campbell.

"We will be delighted, Mr Darcy. We have no prior engagements." She would have liked to come up with an excuse that would make Elizabeth stay at home but she surmised that she could come down with a headache on the morrow.

Mr Darcy's gaze flickered above her head, she was about to turn around when he spoke.

"Is your husband at home, Mrs Campbell?"

"No, I am afraid he is still at his warehouse."

"Ah, a diligent man is he?"

"Oh very, Mr Darcy. He works tirelessly day and night to make sure his clients are served whatever they need."

"A commendable trait, Mrs Campbell. Goodbye." Mr Darcy bowed and escorted his aunt and sister to the carriage that awaited them by the curb.

"I was not aware you were having a dinner party tomorrow night, Darcy?"

"I am sorry to spring this upon you on such short notice. If you cannot attend, I completely understand."

"Of course, we will attend. I would not miss it for the world."

Darcy took his aunt's hand and squeezed it in appreciation. Not only was she willing to aid him but she also approved of his choice. It would not have mattered in the outcome but he was still alleviated.

He would have to bite the sour apple and enlist the aid of Mrs MacBingley. Hoping he had not mistaken her character.

Elizabeth would have to come along to Darcy House. Jane had sent a note that she would stop by to see her sister that evening. In the choice between two evils, Mrs Campbell chose the least threatening. She knew Jane's fierce protectiveness towards her sister would throw a spoke in her wheels. She had an influential husband who could create some real havoc to her plan. It was of the utmost importance that Jane did not get an idea of what was going to happen before it was too late and they had already married.

Darcy House was much grander than both Elizabeth and her aunt had imagined. Mr Campbell was less surprised. As a businessman, he had more understanding of how wealthy Mr Darcy was. He was eagerly anticipating making the connection and to haul the deal ashore.

After meeting Mrs MacBennet, Darcy was pleasantly surprised with his first impression of Mr Campbell. Although the relief that flooded him when he caught sight of Elizabeth, surpassed every other emotion. She had come, it might have taken some subterfuge but she had come. He eagerly awaited the moment when she would notice his surprise. He had done all he could to prove his worth to her. Introduced her to his family, at least, the ones he was proud of. He had shown her his homes and the comfortable life they would lead and he had a surprise in store.

Expertly he guided himself to her side and offered her his arm. She took it gingerly and they led the way through the foyer to the parlour.

"Jane!" She released his arm and flew to her sister. They hugged, laughed and chattered over each other. "I did not know you would be her! I hope you have had a long and solitary sojourn at the MacBingley townhouse because I am ready to visit. I will come tomorrow, as planned."

Mrs Campbell looked none too pleased, although she tried to conceal it as she and her husband were introduced to the Earl of Matlock himself.

Darcy had meticulously planned the seating arrangements. He could not surpass his aunt and uncle at the head of the table with him. He had Mr and Mrs Campbell at the other end, bless Georgiana who did not mind. He seated Elizabeth next to Lord Matlock, she could hold her own and he would have the pleasure of resting his eyes upon her. He still needed an opportunity to speak to her in private, a few ideas churned around his mind how he was to accomplish it. He would have to be alert and grab whatever recourse that presented itself.

His butler, Mr Gilbert, announced that dinner was served. He offered his arm to Lady Aubrey and was pleasantly surprised when his uncle offered his to Miss Elizabeth. It was not strictly proper as her sister Mrs MacBingley should have taken precedence as should Georgiana. He guessed one could do as one pleased at a small dinner party when your title was the one of an Earl.

What he enjoyed less was his uncle domineering the conversation. He could not get a word in while Lord Matlock questioned and debated with his Elizabeth.

Darcy was drawn out of his musings by a commotion in the hall. By the sound of it, it was approaching the dining room and there was more than one voice speaking at the same time.

"I assure you, Mr Darcy will not be unhappy to see me. We are acquainted and share the benefits of a connection to the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent."

"Out of the question. He is entertaining a dinner party. If you could show me an invitation, I will be happy to oblige you."

"Nonsense, I am not here to see Mr Darcy but my betrothed. In my eagerness to see my heart's desire after a lengthy separation, I came a day early. You cannot blame a young man, violently in love, coming to see his fiancée, can you?"

Darcy was quite sure his butler could handle the matter until the door flew up and tall and heavy man, stumbled through the door.

"Elizabeth! I could not wait another day to see you."

The buffoon was holding out his arms as he was expecting someone to fly into his arms.

"Why?" Elizabeth answered dryly in that lazy drawl she used before she scorched her opponent with her acerbic wit.

"Why? Because I could not wait any longer. Surely you have finished your trousseau by now. You have had plenty of time to acquire many fine gowns. Albeit not too fine, I hope. Lady Catherine likes to preserve the distinction between rank. Although I _do_ understand there are certain adjustments made to the neckline of the gowns of a married lady compared to an innocent maiden."

Darcy had had enough.

"Of which there are several in the room, including my sister. You forget yourself, Mr Collins. Why are you here?" Mr Darcy thought the ignoramus did not deserve his civility, therefore he offered none.

"Why? Because Lady MacBennet wrote to me that there had been a terrible misunderstanding. Elizabeth had not refused my offer, she had simply not understood what I meant due to her awful headache that morning. She had come back from her revitalising walk and had been dreadfully upset that I had left without giving her the opportunity to clear our misunderstanding.

She offered me a substantial compensation for the inconvenience it had created. I decided to do the Christian thing, forgive and accept, suitable for a man of the cloth. It is my understanding that Miss Elizabeth has spent the last week with her aunt and uncle to complete her trousseau as befitting a bride of a clergyman."

"What compensation," Elizabeth demanded to know. Her meagre dowry of a thousand pounds could not be accessed before her mother passed.

"A mare and her stallion foal. I suspect I can get a good price for them at Tattersall when the foal has been weaned. I will change the name first though. Fitzfitzwilliam is a ridiculous name for a horse."

Elizabeth gaped and clutched her chest.

"Kelpie and Fitzfitzwilliam is _my_ horses, they are not my mother's to give." Elizabeth was furious. Her eyes shot daggers at the interloper and her fist clenched and unclenched as she fought to maintain control over herself.

Mr Collins looked at her indulgently. "All that is yours will be mine when we marry tomorrow. It does not signify one way or the other."

"That will never happen!" Elizabeth voice trembled with rage but she kept it a bay by the edge of her teeth.

"I am afraid it will, Elizabeth. Your mother was quite specific and your uncle has the consent your father signed. It will be delivered to the parson who will wed you at nine in the morning on the morrow at church St Mary-le-Bow."

Elizabeth glared at her aunt, what utter nonsense was this? She had other options.

"I will remove to Jane and Charles townhouse tonight then."

"You will do no such thing, Elizabeth. Lady MacBingley was quite clear in her letter that if Charles took you in, all his allowance would be cut, he would lose his position in the MacBingley company and not be welcomed in any of their homes..."

"I need some air. I feel a headache coming on." Elizabeth rose from the table and walked serenely to the French doors, leading out into Darcy House' enclosed garden.

Silent tears ran down Jane's cheeks as she watched her sister progress in utter despair.

"I will talk some sense into my betrothed." Mr Collins managed a few steps in the right direction before a large hand on his shoulder, halted his forward motion.

"Let me try to talk to her. Sometimes it is better to talk to someone who is not involved in the conundrum..."

"Certainly, Mr Darcy. I have the utmost respect for you. Lady Catherine says there is no better man in all of England. Just the other day she..." It was futile to toady up to a man that was no longer listening. He watched Mr Darcy's back delve into the long shadows of the night.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining," his Lordship mused. "I wonder what my sister meant by Darcy being the best man..."

That little comment unleased a long tirade of nothingness to retract his words from Mr Collins, his bride utterly forgotten.

*Information about the Campbell clan's contribution to the Battle of Culloden is procured from Wikipedia.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 Mutual Surrender **

Darcy searched the garden darkened by the shadows of tall trees, sparsely lit by moonlight fighting its way through the leaf.

Completing a full round without success, he halted and listened instead. He heard a deep sigh and some sniffling wafting through the silent night, no sobs. He could call out to her but that might alert the other dinner guests that he had found her. He wanted a few moments of uninterrupted conversation before the nitwit and his deprived accomplices could interfere.

Stealthily, he approached. He had not much experience in comforting a crying woman but he would rely on his aptness in negotiating. In that, at least, he excelled.

He stepped on a twig, it cracked under his weight. He heard a gasp from behind the wittered lilac.

" 'Tis only I, Miss Elizabeth."

He thought he heard _thank goodness _but he could not be absolutely sure. It was promising if he perceived it correctly. With a deep breath, he forged on.

"Do not despair, dear Elizabeth. You need not marry Mr Collins. I will gladly marry you in his stead. I have no need for a large dowry nor illustrious connections. My family approves of you, my sister adores you, with the possible exception of Lady Catherine but we need not visit her often. I might even visit Rosings alone, should her rants about her futile wish of seeing me wedded to her daughter prove unmanageable. Will you accept my hand in marriage?"

It was too dark, in the shadows, to see Elizabeth's expression. All he could see was the occasional twinkle as a moonbeam found its way to her eyes. He felt her hand take hold of his and envelope it in her own. She was accepting him, he was forgiven. A broad grin developed on his countenance, his future was secured.

"Mr Darcy, are you always swiping in like a knight in shining armour, to rescue horses and damsels in distress or is it just me?"

He could hear by the lightness in her voice that she was teasing him. An equally witty reply quite escaped him at the moment though, he was too tightly woven with anxiousness towards their precarious situation.

"I thank you for your willingness to sacrifice your own happiness in order to save mine but I cannot allow it.

I will find a way to avoid Mr Collins unwanted attentions. Perhaps I can persuade him about my lacks as a parson's wife or the risks he runs of offending his patroness by bringing home such a headstrong, foolish wife. I will manage, somehow, someway but I need your help. Can you deliver my excuses to your party and tell them I have taken the carriage home with a headache? I am sure I will have a plan figured out before tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr Darcy, God bless you."

Elizabeth let go of his hand and the occasional twinkling went out. Left was only darkness and the sound of his erratically beating heart. 'What had happened? What had he said? Or more importantly, what had she said?

Sacrifice his happiness...

Oh my Lord, she thought he was offering her his hand because of the largesse in his heart not because his heart was already hers. What a jumble he had made of his proposal... Where had she gone?'

He ran out of the bushes, looking frantically around for a sign of Elizabeth's whereabouts. She was nowhere to be seen but the garden gate towards Hyde Park creaked as someone had forgotten to lock it. It was his best option...

He ran into the dark when a glimpse of blue velvet caught his eye on the path towards the Serpentine. His long legs carried him faster than ever before.

It was her, he had found her. Now, he only needed to convince her.

"Elizabeth!"

She halted and turned. Her sparkling eyes widened at the tall man, sprinting towards her. Both hands flew to her chest as he reached her and fell to his knees.

"You mistook my meaning, Elizabeth. My happiness is, and will forever be, irrevocably connected to yours. I am not a knight in shining armour, neither have I a penchant to rescue those I do not particularly care about. I love you, Elizabeth. From the depths of my heart to the recesses of my soul, I love you!

Please, marry me!"

Elizabeth searched his eyes for verity, the words she had heard was unfathomable. His hands gripped hers that had fallen to her sides. There was truth in his eyes, truth, honesty and vulnerability. His hands trembled.

She sank to her knees before him, feeling uncomfortable, towering over the man who had humiliated and revealed himself before her eyes. Begging for mercy she found herself willing to bestow.

Her two options emerged clearly in her mind.

She could marry the odious Mr Collins, a life she could easily imagine as a parsons wife. Living in genteel poverty, reliant upon the mercy of a patroness she had heard amply about but not much of it was favourable or she could leap into the unknown. Marry Mr Darcy who made her heart quiver, who had a sister, servants and friends heaping acclaim upon him willy-nilly. Kelpie's saviour...

"Yes, I will marry you. For love..."

Darcy enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. Standing up, leaving her feet dangling in the air, he twirled her around, laughing.

"Should we confess to your guests about the nature of our bliss?"

Darcy sobered immediately and her feet touched the ground although he did not let up his fierce hold.

"No! Your family would never approve. I do not know all the particulars behind this scheme but I am sure we have not been presented with the entire picture. We need your father's consent. Do you think he would give it?"

"I hardly know, his mood is volatile. It depends on the day, I guess."

"I am not letting you go, Elizabeth, and I am definitely not taking any chances. Let me think..."

Darcy stood silently, stroking his hands up and down her back. She slackened the fierce hold she taken around his neck while he flung her around and let her fingers glide through his soft hair. He sighed deeply into her ear before he related the plan he had come up with, asking her opinion on the matter.

She heartily agreed, the plan made her giddy with happiness and in anticipation of adventure.

Darcy entered the dining room where the second course had been held, pending on his return. He avoided looking at Mr and Mrs MacBingley but addressed Mr Collins.

"Please, Mr Collins, have a seat and join our meal. You may take your betrothed's chair beside your noble patronesses brother, the Earl of Matlock."

Mr Collins acquiesced with the loquaciousness he was known for but he was swiftly interrupted by Mr Gardiner.

"Where is my niece, Mr Darcy?"

His tone was sharp but Mr Darcy smiled and put down his cutlery.

"Mr Gardiner, your niece is as we speak, on her way home if she is not there already.

She had left the garden when I came out. It was by sheer luck that I noticed a garden gate creaking in the wind and I went over to lock it. I espied your niece at a distance, walking in the direction of Cheapside and I hastened to catch her. She claimed a severe headache and wanted to return home so she would be well-rested by tomorrow.

I argued that it was a long walk for a young lady to undertake, especially through the unsafe streets of London. After much persuasion from me, she agreed to direct Mr Collins gig and driver back to Gracechurch Street. I hope you will not think it too forward of me, Mr Collins, but your excellent man promised to deliver the passenger safely to your housekeeper, Mrs Campbell. I am sorry that I made the presumption of lending out your conveyance, assuming you could ride back with the excellent Mr and Mrs Campbell. If there are any impediments to this unorthodox scheme, I offer you the use of my own carriage to convey you home, Mr Collins.

Mr Campbell, I understand if you feel you must return home but I sincerely hope this will not compel you to leave my party early. I have some business propositions I had hoped to discuss, now that Lord Matlock is conveniently present..."

Darcy let the last implication hang in the air. It was Mrs Campbell who answered him.

"My housekeeper is very reliable, Mr Darcy. I am certain my niece is in excellent hands and she will most likely want to retire. There is no need for us to cut our evening short. I thank you, Mr Darcy, for your forethought and quick action to secure the safety of our somewhat headstrong niece."

"Think nothing of it, Mrs Campbell. I am a guardian to a young girl myself. I would hope that others would aid her when I am not present."

Mr Darcy was mighty pleased with himself for implementing his plan with success.

Mr Campbell might be failing as an uncle but he was an astute businessman as MacBingley had pledged. The proposition seemed lucrative, Darcy went in with a little of his own means but not more than he could afford to lose. Making Mr Campbell aware that he might invest more in the future, depending upon the result of his first effort.

Lord Matlock secured himself a deal as well but only as a client. He was fond of amber liquid. With the wars going on, making French wares a rare commodity, he settled gladly for a steady supply of Scottish Whiskey.

Charles kept in the background, obviously displeased with his friend. He and his wife left as early as conceivable. Darcy was sorry he had to deceive his friend but he dared not trust him explicitly in this all to important matter. Elizabeth had admitted that her sister was not to be trusted with secrets. She was honest to a fault.

There was one lady who was not deceived, she waited for the others out and attacked when they had left.

"What have you done, Darcy?"

"I assure you, madam. Very little as of yet..."

Finally, his own relations left and his plan could be set in motion. The door closed behind the Matlocks and his butler was awaiting further orders.

"Mr Gilbert, have my old, unmarked coach readied to bring Mr Collins home."

His butler looked at him askance, probably wondering if his master had perhaps had a few cups too many.

"Mr Collins, left in Mr Campbell's carriage."

"I am well aware of that, Mr Gilbert, the stable hands are not. Please ready the coach with James and Euan in the driver seat. I have a couple of chests that need to be loaded up, in my chamber. Tell the footmen to retire and offer to escort Mr Collins yourself as you have some chore or other, still needed to be done so you might as well wait up."

"Yes, Mr Darcy."

"Thank you, Mr Gilbert." His master took two steps at the time as he ascended the stairs, wearing an unmistakable smile. He halted suddenly, halfway up.

"Mr Gilbert?"

"Yes, Mr Darcy?"

"If anyone asks, I am escorting Mr Collins home to his parsonage in Hunsford that abut Rosings Park."

"Yes, Sir."

Mrs Campbell located her housekeeper, first thing when they arrived home.

"Has Elizabeth arrived home?"

"Yes, madam. A few hours ago, she went straight to her chamber, not even bothering to remove her cloak. Was she unwell, Mrs Campbell? She looked forlorn, her shoulders were slumped and she was positively dragging her feet... I went by to check up on her a little later but she had already fallen asleep, mam. Should I wake her?"

"No, she suffers from the occasional headache. Let her sleep."

"Yes, mam"

"I need the second bedroom readied for Mr Collins. Miss Elizabeth's betrothed."

"But, the second bedroom is next to Miss Elizabeth."

"I am fully aware but it is the only one we have to spare. They will marry on the morrow so I guess it does not matter, much."

The housekeeper curtsied and went to perform her duties.

Mrs Campbell exhaled and slumped down in her chair, exhausted. It really was the last time she exerted herself for her new sister.

They had served her diligently since she offered to put in a good name for Mrs Campbell's husband, her own brother no less, at the renowned Loch Tay distillery. This whole affair was distasteful, it ended here. If she would destroy her own brother's reputation and deprive him of his livelihood, so be it. She was done after she had seen Elizabeth marry that odious excuse of a man. What had Fiona been thinking, chackling a daughter to him? She would probably never know but had she had any idea of how utterly unsuited he was to her niece, she would never have agreed to the scheme. Elizabeth was stubborn and temperamental, at least, she had been the last time they visited, ten years ago. She had thought Elizabeth was just being her usual wilful self but after meeting the man in question, she had nothing but sympathy for the fate of her niece. The scheme had proceeded too far to reskin though, nothing good would come of upsetting Lady Catherine de Bourgh...

The Campbell household awakened at dawn on this momentous day.

The wedding was set at nine in the morning, leaving little time for sleeping in at the Campbell house.

Mrs Campbell heard a knock on her chamber door.

"I am awake, I will be out when I have finished my toilet."

"I beg your pardon for disturbing your toilet, Mam, but Miss Elizabeth is missing. I thought you wanted to know immediately."

Mrs Campbell rubbed her eyes and nudged her husband awake.

"Has she gone for one of her early morning rambles?" She asked through the door.

"Not exactly, Mam."

Mrs Campbell decided that this conversation might not be wise to have, shouting through a door.

"One moment, I will be right with you."

She threw a robe around her nightgown and put on a pair of slippers. She nudged her tired husband a second time before she whispered in his ear: "Get up, Edward. I think we might have some trouble on our hands."

Out in the hallway, her housekeeper stood wringing her hands.

"Follow me," Mrs Campbell told her housekeeper and they removed to Mr Campbell's study. The only room in the house where one could be assured of privacy. Behind the closed door, her housekeeper informed her that the maid she had sent to awaken Miss Elizabeth, had discovered that the girl in Miss Elizabeth's bed was not her but a maid from Darcy House.

"Send her in," Mrs Campbell ordered in a clipped tone. She had been duped, there was no question about it but she had to get as much information as possible from the interloper before she would know how to act.

A young girl of approximately five and ten was shown into the study. She was petit, her figure resembled her niece's but the similarities ended there.

"Tell me how you thought this girl was my niece?" Mrs Campbell addressed her housekeeper.

"She didn't remove her cloak, mam. When I asked if she needed anything, she waved me off. I am sorry, mam, but I didn't see her face nor hear her voice. I assumed it was Miss Elizabeth because she wore her cloak..."

Mrs Campbell sent her housekeeper out of the study with strict orders to search the house from top to bottom. The housekeeper hastened to leave the premises, well aware that she had not heard the last of this debacle.

"What is your name and what are you doing in my house?" Mrs Campbell spoke harshly to the terrified maid before her.

"Jenny 's my name, Mam. I found Miss Elizabeth crying outside the door of the 'ouse I work in. I'm a scullery maid at Mr Darcy's townhouse and Mrs Gilbert, the 'ousekeeper says that I should always do as Mr Darcy says and treat his guests as I would treat him. To do everything I am told, as quickly as possible and to never ask any questions, Mam. I just did as I was told, Mam."

"Was it Miss Elizabeth or Mr Darcy who told you to impersonate Miss Elizabeth?"

"I don't understand what impersonate means, Mam. But I saw no Mr Darcy, only the beautiful Miss, Mam. Very upset she was, crying her eyes out. I couldn't disobey, Mam. I might lose me place if I didn't do as I was told. 'Tis not me place to question me orders. I ain't doing the scullery forever, I ain't. I want to be a lady's maid to a fine lady one day."

Mrs Campbell could not quite decide if she was dealing with a terrified, babbling maid, an ambitious overachiever or the next star on Drury Lane. Either way, she could not take the chance of offending Mr Darcy. First things first, she needed to locate her wayward niece...

"Wait in the kitchen, Jenny. I will drive you to Grosvenor Square myself."

The maid curtsied and left Mrs Campbell to wait for her staff to finish the search of the house. She informed her husband of the new development while she dressed for the day.

She was tired, the pregnancy and the strain of marrying off her niece was taking its toll on her. Edward came and put his comforting arms around her.

"We will find her, Madeline. She cannot be far away. Perhaps she thought it a good joke to trade places with the maid for a day. A last prank before she is expected to behave properly as a married lady should. I am not too worried, yet. Let me accompany you to Mr Darcy and we will soon get to the bottom of this. She might even have caught a bigger fish than Mr Collins." Mr Campbell winked at his wife.

"Do you never read your sisters letters?"

"Not if I can help it," Mr Campbell quipped.

"According to Fiona, Mr Darcy's first impression of Lizzy was that he mistook her for one of the peasants at one of the pagan, outdoor parties they held. He called her a weed and wondered if her hair was on fire. He left as soon as possible before his injured friend had recovered. It does not sound like a man infatuated to me. He might have an entirely different motive for seeking her out though..."

Darcy House looked sleepy when the Campbell carriage arrived, unfashionably early on this Tuesday morning. The knocker had been removed but the maid guided them around the house to the servants' entrance.

Mrs Gilbert, the housekeeper of Darcy House, was the first person they ran into.

"Mr Campbell, Mrs Campbell, how can I be of service?"

The housekeeper concealed her astonishment well if not absolutely. She did not acknowledge the maid at all.

"We wish to speak to Mr Darcy on an urgent matter."

"Mr Darcy is not at home." The housekeeper replied.

"When will he be back? As I mentioned, the matter is rather urgent," Mr Campbell insisted.

"I cannot say but let me fetch Mr Gilbert, he is better informed than myself. Please, follow me to the parlour, it is more comfortable. Not you, Jenny. You may return to the scullery. I will talk to you later ."

Mrs Gilbert disappeared for a few minutes before she returned with the butler of Darcy house who happened to be her husband.

"Mr Campbell, I understand you need to see Mr Darcy but he left town last night, he did not say when he would be back." Mr Gilbert uttered tersely, making Mr Campbell convinced he needed to be frank with the butler if he wanted any form of information.

"Mr Gilbert, it is of utmost importance that I speak to Mr Darcy about a delicate matter. My niece is missing, in her place, we found your scullery maid Jenny while Miss Elizabeth is nowhere to be found.

She was here last night at Mr Darcy's dinner party. She was struck by a sudden headache and Mr Darcy arranged for her to be taken home in Mr Collins gig but when we woke up this morning. Jenny was in Miss Elizabeth's room, claiming that a distraught Miss Elizabeth had asked her to take her place. Surely, you understand our concern and the urgency, not to forget the importance of keeping the matter private?"

Mr Gilbert looked thoughtful.

"It explains why he left for Rosings to bring Mr Collins home since he had sent his gig away but I have no knowledge of your niece, Mr Campbell."

"He cannot have left with Mr Collins, he shared our carriage home last night. Did you see him enter the carriage?"

"I did not."

Neither had anyone else it would seem, after careful questioning of the footmen.

Mr Campbell reckoned he had gotten all the information he needed and thanked Mr Gilbert for his time.

Mr and Mrs Campbell hastened to their carriage. Safely inside they discussed their new discoveries.

"We should leave for Rosings immediately and bring Mr Collins with us. They can be married just as easily from Hunsford as London..." Mrs Campbell smiled, she saw an end to this farce and she could not bring it to its conclusion fast enough.

"That is what he wants us to believe, Madeline. I saw the look in his eyes. He has probably hauled her off to some distant cottage, we will never see her again..." Mr Campbell's mood turned morose.

"I thought so too but the Darcy men are renowned for their outstanding moral. I have enquired amongst several of my acquaintances. Mr Darcy is thought of as honourable and virtuous. Mr Darcy would _never_ make her his mistress. No, he will definitely marry her." Mrs Campbell gasped and clutched her husband's arm. "Gretna Green, they are headed for Gretna Green! Fiona will be furious and blacklist us to Laird MacBingley..."

Mr Campbell stroked the hand that was clutching his arm.

"There, there, darling. Even Fiona cannot oppose to such a catch as Mr Darcy. He is wealthy, good looking and an exemplary member of society. She cannot possibly object..."

Mrs Campbell raised an eyebrow to her husband.

"Fiona? Your easily excitable sister with her fluttering nerves and fits of irrationality? Who despises Elizabeth for being her father's favourite and causing the rift between Lady MacBingley and herself? She will throw a fit just because Elizabeth married better than Jane!"

"I wonder how she can have such a hold on Mr MacBingley though. He does seem like a sensible man."

"Do you not know? Have you ever had a good look at Mary? She does not resemble her sisters, does she?"

Mrs Campbell let the implication rest in the air as they arrived at their home on Gracechurch Street.

"Surely not..." Mr Campbell muttered but he had to admit that there was a certain resemblance.

"Fiona was desperate for a boy and Mr MacBingley had fathered three. Why he agreed to the scheme, I will never know but I am convinced that Mary is Laird MacBingley's child."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 Runaway Bride**

In the oldest and most rundown Darcy carriage, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy acted as two people with a newfound, violent love would. They sat awkwardly on opposite sides with no notion how to relieve the tension of what they had just subjected themselves to. The planning had been performed with efficiency, due to the hast required. Now, with nothing to do but gaze out into the shady streets of London, a sheepish silence had descended inside the carriage.

Elizabeth redirected her thoughts towards the last hour. Dressed in an outdated frock from her betrothed's late mother, without the beautiful lace that a maid had helped her remove while Darcy entertained his guests. It fitted her snuggly in places while being too generous in others, mainly the length. The late Mrs Darcy had been a tall and willowy lady which was reflected in both her offspring. Elizabeth was short and curvy but the maid had insisted it fitted perfectly for a lady's maid who had received old, handy down gowns as part of her payment.

She let her eyes drift to Mr Darcy. He wore an old suit from his late father's wardrobe while the shadow of his facial hair seemed to grow by the hour. Elizabeth wondered what he would look like with a fully grown beard. Elizabeth was one of the few who liked a bearded man but a beard would also conceal his strong jaw, a feature she particularly liked to study.

Their scheme was a simple one. They would travel incognito while imposing as a valet and lady's maid, supposedly on their way to their next assignment. If the Campbells or Mr Collins should follow them, they would use fabricated names and had another little twist up their sleeves. Graitney, more familiarly known as Gretna Green was broadly known as _the_ place to go for eloping couples.

After Sarah Anne Child eloped with John Fane, 10th Earl of Westmoreland on the twentieth of May 1782, chased by her recalcitrant father.

Everyone knew about the blacksmith who married the couple over the anvil. Robert Child followed them to Scotland but he was too late to prevent the marriage, it was not too late to change his will though...

The enraged father cut his daughter from his will, in a very public affair. He swore that no Earl of Westmoreland would ever benefit from his wealth. As a result, his wealth passed to his eldest granddaughter, Sarah Child Villiers, the Countess of Jersey.

Therefore, Darcy and Elizabeth were headed towards Coldstream bridge and the toll booth, also known as the wedding house. It was situated on the north side of the Tweed, on Scottish soil, where they would marry...

It was days ahead though, close to 350 miles. A journey who would take the better part of a week to accomplish in less than favourable conditions.

Mr Darcy's conundrum was how to behave in the interim between the acceptance of his hand and actually being married. He was in no doubt of what he wanted to do which was enveloping the temptress with the snug bodice opposite him in a passionate embrace. He doubted Elizabeth was of the same mind though... She faced the darkened streets that were about to become even darker as they were nearing a more rural area which meant the end of the dim street lights. He knew they had to find lodgings soon, it was not safe to travel in complete darkness, on the outskirts of London.

His thoughts had not ventured past the practical and averting the predicament of his Elizabeth marrying the outrageous Mr Collins.

The horses slowed down, they must have reached Edgeware, their first stop, ten miles into their three-hundred and forty-one-mile journey. Not a word had been exchanged between them, both had been lost in thought and the awkwardness of the moment.

Elizabeth hid her fiery tresses in an old mob cap from his mother's dressing room. He had not thought that the room had been left untouched since his mother passed.

He had never ventured into her rooms after she perished in childbirth, leaving his father grief-stricken, turning towards drink and shallow amusements as playing at cards with his steward's son.

His thoughts ended abruptly as the carriage drew to a halt, Elizabeth's tresses carefully hidden.

"Slump," Elizabeth whispered after they had alighted from the carriage and was heading towards the entrance of the roadside Inn.

"What?"

"Slump you shoulders, no one is ever going to believe you are anything less than a nobleman if you keep your excellent posture. You have shadows on your jaw but not enough to conceal your heritage, therefore, slump..."

Darcy did the best he could but lifelong training was difficult to suppress in a matter of minutes.

"You're in luck, we're almost full," the Innkeeper muttered under his breath, not even looking up from his ledger while Mr Darcy fought to quell a groan. "I have one small single left."

"Surely, you can find us an extra room? A small one would suffice, we are not finicky." Elizabeth laid her Scottish burr on thick.

The innkeeper looked up for a moment, scrutinizing the couple's attire. It was of good quality but decades out of fashion and had obviously been mended. A valet and a lady's maid, he immediately surmised.

"I've got a servant room in the attic, 'tis all I've left."

"Thank you," Elizabeth smiled to the old man who was not moved.

"Names!"

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, they had not gotten that far as to decide which name to use. Smith was too obvious...

"Williams," Darcy answered the man.

"Kincaid," Elizabeth added.

"That will be six shillings," the man waved towards the stairs as soon as the shillings touched his desk. "On the top, end of the hall, to the right, Mr Williams. Miss Kincaid, follow me." The innkeeper dragged his feet up the stairs to a small room on the first floor, just above the noisy common room.

"You should take this," Elizabeth looked at Darcy. "I am sure the one in the attic is even smaller and I am much shorter than you..."

"Absolutely not!" Darcy looked aghast at her, getting an askance look from the innkeeper who immediately detected that at least one of his new guests was infatuated with the other.

"Get some sleep, we have a long day of travelling ahead of us on the morrow, Miss Kincaid."

The innkeeper left them and let Darcy find his own way to the attic.

The room was the smallest Darcy had entered that was not a cupboard. With the sloping roof, he was no longer able to stand up straight after he had crossed the threshold. He had to sit on the bed because the roof was too low by the chair but Elizabeth would have fitted perfectly.

The only advantage with the room was the small peephole, he refused to call it a window, on the wall. Making it possible to add some fresh air to a room, hardly fit for one.

Elizabeth looked around on the narrow bed and even smaller floor space, wondering what kind of accommodations Mr Darcy had to put up with if this closet was deemed a guest room. Picturing him in cramped space with a short cot, his long legs dangling off the end... Better not let her mind drift in that direction, not yet.

Not a word had been spoken about it but she was glad he had taken it for granted that they would procure separate sleeping arrangements. It spoke well of his respect for her, another good quality she could tuck away in her minds treasure chest.

She readied herself for sleep swiftly and lay down on the hard, lumpy bed.

The racket from below seemed like it increased in volume. Shouting and quarrelling could be easily heard, she could even discern what was being said.

The floorboards creaked outside her room, making her appreciate the lock on her door. The common room being occupied with blootered men...

They were not off as early the next morning as Darcy would have preferred. He lay awake, fretting about Elizabeth's safety, alone two floors below him. The pandemonium from the common room drifted up into his attic room, dulled by the distance but not entirely drowned out. It must be difficult to sleep directly above it... Not to forget the ruckus that would form when they finally succumbed to their exhaustion and retired. An unwelcome picture emerged in Darcy's mind. What if one of them took a wrong turn and accidentally went into Elizabeth's room... Had he remembered to advise her to lock the door, did the door even have a lock?

Darcy tossed and turned, sleep was impossible. He gave in, rose from his cot and stealthily crept down the stairs with the chair from his room on his arm.

Darcy put the chair down outside of Elizabeth's room, sat down and stretched his long legs in front of him, pulling his hat over his eyes. It was going to be a long night... Unfortunately, it had lasted until the sun was up above the horizon, making his intention of leaving at first light mute.

Elizabeth stuffed her hair into the mob cap after his mother but in broad daylight, her fiery tresses could not be concealed no matter her diligence. At least one curl consistently insisted on escaping its confinement.

She left her room to find Mr Darcy, not a difficult feat when he was fast asleep in a chair outside her room. His arms crossed over his chest with his long legs stretched in front of him. His hat was pulled over his eyes...

Elizabeth lifted the hat gently, the gentleman did not stir.

She wondered if his room had been uninhabitable or if he had chosen this form of accommodation to protect herself. She sensed that it was the latter and kissed his cheek. "Elizabeth," he whispered.

The joy she felt by hearing her own name from his half awake, half asleep state was euphoric.

His eyes fluttered open to a brilliantly smiling Elizabeth. 'Would that he could do that every morning...'

They broke their fast in the common room. A few random but decidedly bawdy remarks were directed at Elizabeth which she judiciously overlooked. Darcy stopped and glared but Elizabeth grabbed his arm and pulled him into an unoccupied corner. James and Euan soon joined them and the meal was quickly devoured.

"We will proceed to St Albans and The Fighting Cocks. It, at least, has decent food as the oldest Inn in the country. We will rest our horses there, eat a little more and refill our baskets. Hopefully enabling us to cover some distance today. How does the weather look, James?"

"Fine travelling weather, Sir. Clear skies and no wind."

"Good."

They decided to go the fourteen miles to St, Albans in one stretch and settled into the carriage.

Darcy wracked his brain for something that could break the silence. How come he suddenly got so tongue-tied in Elizabeth's company? He was usually adequately equipped for conversation.

"I misspoke earlier, The Fighting Cock does not claim to be the oldest hostelry but the oldest inhabited house in England." Inane but the best he could come up with. It succeeded in turning Elizabeth's magnificent eyes towards him.

"Is it?"

"Unlikely, it is either sheer impudence or a jest. The quaint octagonal building is definitely old, it used to be the water-gate of the ancient, embattled St. Germaine's Gate Monastery who disappeared around five hundred years ago. It has an inscription on the wall saying: _The old rounded house, rebuilt after the flood._ I doubt it means the Deluge as the house is situated low by the river Ver..."

His inanity was rewarded with a tinkling laugh that reminded him of the early birds in the spring.

"Really? I am looking forward to verifying it with my own eyes."

Her eyes that were currently directed at him with the sun highlighting the silver specks in the blue and green orbs, rendering him speechless and mute, deprived of the ability to think. Darcy shook his head, clearing the spindly cobwebs that her beauty spun in his mind.

"I will be eagerly awaiting your verdict on the matter. Perhaps we can once and for all determine if it is mockery or audacity?"

An hour later, the brick and timber storey came into view.

"Oh my! It is old... Are you sure it was not here by the time of the Deluge?"

"Are you voting against either joke or boast Madame and declaring it to be real?"

"Perhaps," Elizabeth smirked and sauntered out of the carriage before he had the wherewithal to aid her descent.

They had an hour to enjoy a meal while the horses rested. Their next stretch would be the longest as they hoped to cover thirty miles before another rest was needed and the last leg of fifteen to twenty miles was hopefully completed. Over sixty miles a day with one pair of horses was ambitious but the carriage was, despite its old age, light and the road was in good condition.

The meal was much better than breakfast had been at the inn in Edgeware but Elizabeth was eager to stretch her legs. In the backyard of the inn was a lovely garden with ripe apples and blooming flowers. Darcy saw the longing looks she directed at the garden and smiled.

"Would you take a turn around the garden with me, Madam?"

"With pleasure, Sir."

Darcy sprung from his chair, pulled out Elizabeth's chair and offered her his arm with an exaggerated bow. He was awarded for his effort with a strophe of the tinkling laughter he adored so much. He straightened and guided them towards the garden when an unwelcome sight caught his eye. He proceeded as nothing had happened but Elizabeth felt him stiffen under her hand. Fortunately, she turned her eyes towards his countenance rather than taking a backward glance.

Instead of leading her through the orchard, Darcy turned left and walked them behind the mews.

A back door was open and he moved in front of Elizabeth, shielding her from view.

He whistled and James came in a matter of seconds.

"Harness the horses, Elizabeth and I will go through the woods and meet you up on the main road. We have got company."

James nodded and disappeared. Darcy took a firm hold of Elizabeth's hand and stealthily climbed the hill leading to the Great North Road, conscious of keeping them obscured from prying eyes at the inn whilst pulling Elizabeth along.

She instinctively knew she should not ask any questions. The realisation of the unwavering trust she had in Darcy astonished her and that was what occupied her thoughts while she trailed forward and upwards.

They reached the road and kept amongst the trees until their carriage approached.

"Biggleswade," Darcy whispered to James who nodded his assent. Darcy lifted Elizabeth into the carriage as the step had been folded up and jumped in after her. The carriage had not even stopped.

"I do not understand how they caught up with us so quickly. I thought we would have, at least, a days advantage but we have less than an hour."

"Who caught up with us?" Elizabeth inquired.

"You did not see them?" Darcy asked incredulously. Elizabeth shook her head.

"Mr and Mrs Campbell entered just as we left, Mr Collins followed a few steps behind them. I am a little bewildered, Elizabeth. If you did not see your relations, why did you follow me so quietly in the opposite direction to what we agreed?" Darcy deliberately left out the fourth in their company. The one who had left his blood running cold...

Elizabeth leaned forward and touched his arm. "I could feel your arm tense up under my hand, your muscles fletched and I looked up and saw the wariness in your eyes. I instantly knew something was amiss and surmised that I better follow your lead. You were quiet, I thought you might have a reason to..."

Darcy caught Elizabeth's hand as she tried to pull away. He cradled it in his large hands, worn from riding his horse for hours a day. Her dainty hand was the same size as his palm but delicate and soft as opposed to his calloused ones. 'It dawned on him that he had been remiss as he had brought her no ring for the wedding. He would have to give her his signet ring, hidden away on his person while they travelled.

She deserved so much more though... Willingly defying the wishes of her family to be his, even though he had insulted her grievously. Worse than any other he had ever disparaged, worse than Wickham...' Darcy groaned and let his thumbs brush over her hand. 'What he had done to deserve her, he did not know but he felt like _he_ was the lucky one. A reversal from his past skirmishes with romance. He had felt a vain superiority over every lady he had paid any attention to but not Elizabeth.' He kissed her hand before he let it go. Leaning back into the firm, worn seat of his father's old coach. It was not as comfortable as his new landau nor his mother's barouche but it was light, speedy and unmarked. He had decided to sell it but had not had the time to bring it to the dealer. Now, he would not want to. It had proved to have some use left in it. If he was lucky, it might even hold the memory of his first kisses as a married man.

Darcy's eyes closed as he leaned back in his seat, Elizabeth figured she should rest as well and fell asleep.

She was awoken rudely by the shaking from the potholes on the road, they were clearly in an area with less maintained roads as the carriage rattled and shook.

"Are we there already?" Darcy rubbed his eyes and shook himself awake.

"It depends on what you mean by there. The last inn was the Fighting Cock... Are we perhaps going to the Peaceful Hen, the newest hostelry in England? I am eager to hear about your next historical inn."

Darcy looked at her sheepishly. He did like to include a history lesson or four but Elizabeth did not seem to mind. She might be less forgiving when he revealed where they were headed.

"We are not stopping at an inn this time. With the Campbells and their company so close on our heels, I decided to stop in Biggleswade. Hopefully gaining some headway while staying away from the inns will leave no trail for them to follow. Hopefully, they will give up and return home. If they continue north, it is very likely they will turn west at either Doncaster or Leeds, the first option is a hundred and twenty miles ahead, another 14 if they choose the slightly better road from Leeds. We need to be vigilant. We will lodge a few miles off the main road tonight but for now, I know about a good resting spot, down by the river Ivel, where the horses can rest and we can eat the meal we purchased at the Fighting Cock. James is a keen angler, we have stopped here before and have permission from the landowner to do so. There are large barbels, chubs, perches to be had and some smaller roaches and pikes as well."

The carriage came to a halt under some large birch trees. The woodland opened up and gave way for grassland along the riverbank. Giving them an option between basking in the sun or languishing in the shade. Elizabeth heard their driver curse, it was a beautiful spot but not as mind-blowing as to wield profanity. She rounded the carriage and saw why the driver had felt the need to swear. Darcy observed the same as she and immediately put his large frame in front of her, shielding her from the danger. Elizabeth thought they might seem less threatening with a female amongst them but what did she know about the male mind...

Whomever they had encountered by the river, fanned out as they approached. Elizabeth could hear them rather than see them, by Darcy's rigid posture she guessed they were outnumbered.

A flash of colour reached Elizabeth, hidden behind the broad back of her betrothed. Her gaze was drawn to the right and she gasped as she recognised the wearer of the vibrant colours.

"Shuri?"

"Lizzy?"

The ladies ran towards each other, heedless of their companions' efforts to stop them both and embraced one another in a fierce hug.

"What are you doing this far south?" Shuri inquired.

"I could have ask you the same but I am going to favour you with an answer instead. I am on my way north because I am getting married."

Shuri peered over Elizabeth's shoulder at the men that accompanied her.

"Which one?"

"The tall, dark and handsome one," Elizabeth replied with a smirk.

"Really? With your short-comings, pun intended, you could have settled for one of the shorter ones."

Elizabeth laughed and swatted Shuri's arm.

"I _never_ settle..."

"No, I guess you would not." Shuri sighed when silence fell over the assembled folk.

An old, silver-haired man had stepped forward through the crowd of Gipsies.

"Sylvester Boswell?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, and you must be young master Darcy, the resemblance is uncanny. How is your father?"

Darcy bowed to the elderly man in front of him.

"He passed three years ago."

"I would have thought the old chief more resilient."

"I wish..."

The head of the Boswell Gypsy Tribe waved away his men, offering the interlopers a place around the fire.

"We are on our way north and need to rest our horses for a couple of hours. James, my driver, would like to try his luck in the river if you do not mind?"

"Help yourself," the old man infamously known as Wester Boswell waved James away, Euan followed and the two men started digging for worms. Glad to keep their distance.

"So... You are tying the knot with little Lizzy, a beautiful highland rose. She saved Shuri's mother Loverin from drowning in the Loch Tay."

Darcy coloured slightly by the remembrance of another highland flower mention in context with his fiancée.

"You still owe me a skirt though, Lizzy. The little imp told Loverin to loosen her garments, claiming they were dragging her down." The old man scoffed.

"It was the skirt or your daughter, Mr Boswell. I was not of an age to pull her up by myself. I believe I know what you would choose in my position." Elizabeth was not intimidated by the grumpy old man. He admired her more for it.

"Are you sure you can handle this much fire, Darcy?"

Darcy's colour deepened further while another of his insults sprung to mind. The old man chuckled at his obvious discomfort.

"You better threat this one softly, Lizzy, or he might lose more than his speech."

Darcy cleared his throat but could not think of anything to say. He opted to collect the basket of victuals from the carriage and offered his fiery flower something to eat while the horses grassed on the riverbank and the men were trying their luck with the rods.

James caught a large barbel which the Boswell patriarch allowed him to cook on the fire.

"Are you sure you would not prefer a more demure wife, Mr Darcy?" Sylvester Boswell asked while Elizabeth were frolicking in the grass with some of the children. Chasing them around.

"Quite," he answered without hesitation.

Elizabeth stumbled and fell on the grassy riverbank. Fortunately, she immediately sat up, laughing at her own folly. One of the shoes remained on the grass a few feet behind her. A little unkempt Gipsy girl fetched it and studied it intently.

"They are a little on the large side, it came off as I ran." Elizabeth excused herself.

"I would not mind the extra height with these heels, may I trade them with mine? They are much smaller..."

Elizabeth laughed merrily.

"My feet are not that small, darling but it was a lovely thought. Thank you!

Heels are not in fashion anymore. I love the added height as well but it is the low slippers that are all the rage in London at the moment, unfortunately. I was lucky to get my hands on these used ones from a great lady though. Did you know that initially, it was men that wore heels?"

The little Gypsy imp looked at Elizabeth with eyes the size of dinner plates. "No, do tell me, please?"

"Have you heard of the sun king, Louis XIV?" The little girl nodded gravely. "Well, he did not invent the shoe but as other French men I would not dare name, he was a little short like you and me... High heels originated in Persia and were worn by soldiers to keep their feet in the stirrups. Particularly convenient for the archers who stood up in their saddle when they shot with their bow and arrow. King Louis adopted the fashion when he saw them worn by emissaries from Shäh Abbäs I of Persia, in the early seventeenth century. The heels of the upper éclat had to be higher and of a red colour to distinguish themselves from the commoners. Ladies soon adopted the fashion but their heels were thinner which eventually led to the fairy tale of Cinderella because it was looked upon as the height of fashion to have small feet, you see. Have you heard the story about Cinderella?" The little girl shook her head while her imploring eyes bore into Elizabeth's, begging for her to continue. The little imp had listened with rapt attention while Elizabeth gave her little history lesson. More children had gathered around the two while she spoke and further more huddled close as Elizabeth related the fairy tale of the princess with the dainty glass shoe.

It was three in the afternoon when James deemed the horses sufficiently rested to manage the last twenty miles to Grantham. They bade the Gipsies farewell and set out on the last leg of the day.

"How do you know the Boswells?" Elizabeth inquired as soon as they had settled in the carriage.

"I do not, personally. My father allowed them to camp on our land, many years ago. I was at Eton at the time but I remember father talking about them."

"No history lesson?" Elizabeth invited when he grew quiet.

"No, not this time."

"A pity..."

Alconbury had a small quaint inn but at least they had rooms to spare.

Elizabeth and Darcy ordered victuals sent to their rooms and retired for the evening. It was a little early still for sleeping and they read verses of the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Elizabeth's favourite part of the evening was when Darcy red the poem: _A red, red rose _with so much feeling you might think he spoke for himself.

_O my Luve's like a red, red rose,  
That's newly sprung in June;  
O my Luve's like the melodie  
That's sweetly play'd in tune._

_As fair are thou, my bonie lass,  
So deep in luve am I;  
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry._

_Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,  
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:  
I will luve thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o' life shall run._

_And fare thee weel, my only Luve!  
And fare thee weel, a while!  
And I will come again, my Luve,  
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!_

They retired to much more comfortable beds this evening with room enough to sleep. The chambers had a connecting door which Elizabeth chose not to lock. She hid behind the screen to undress and wash for the first time in two days. The prior night she had slept with all her garments on, including her tightly laced stays. She was sore where it had rubbed against her skin. She needed help to loosen the ties, reluctantly she knocked on the connecting door. He had been appalled when she had waved off his concerns for a chaperone during their travels as nonsensical. They were betrothed after all, within days of their vows. It would be no hardship to adhere to proper conduct for a week.

Darcy had behaved admirably, it was _she_ who presently exerted a problem.

She longed for his embrace, his kisses, his abandonment of every notion of restraint. She sighed, perhaps he should have chosen one of those pale, meek, English roses instead of the Highland thistle with too little deference to ladylike conduct.

He called for her the enter, luckily, he was still decent.

"May I be of assistance, Elizabeth? You have sighed heavily three times now..."

"Yes, I am stuck in my stays and they are gnawing into my skin but my arms seem to lack a joint or two to manage by myself."

Elizabeth hoped her latest reveries could not be discerned on her countenance and that Darcy accounted for her crimson cheeks to her need for aid. One good thing about being freckled, she blushed only half of what those creamy English roses did. The thought cheered her and she could not stop the smile that spread over her countenance.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"I just thought of an advantage of having freckles," she smirked and turned her back on him.

"Want to tell me?"

"No," the blush spread anew and trailed down her neck while Darcy deftly unlaced her stays. "Thank you," she whispered and quickly left his chamber. The touch of his hands had left frissons on her skin that kept on quivering.

It felt heavenly to have divested herself of the tight garment, elevated further by the sensation of warm soapy water. The maid had packed a bar of Miss Darcy's lily of the valley scented soap, a luxury highly appreciated by Elizabeth.

She pulled a borrowed shift over her head and emerged from the screen.

The bed was not quite as comfortable as she was used to at home but adequate for a nights sleep. A sleep which did not come...

She lay alerted, listening for sounds from the adjoining room. The floorboards creaked but any other sounds were drowned out by the loud snoring emanating from the room on the other side. The walls must be paper-thin as it sounded like the snorer was inside her room.

Darcy was probably undressing or washing as the bed had not creaked yet. Her thoughts involuntary reverted back to a balmy evening, just a couple of weeks ago and a scenic river view.

Finally, sleep claimed her.

The Angel Inn in Grantham, 46 miles hard-earned miles since their night Alconbury, was a large and busy in compared to their previous locations. Two rooms was hired for the betrothed couple while James and Euan lodged in the stables. The horses were exhausted and needed a long rest.

Their meagre luggage were carried to their chamber but they immediately ventured downstairs to order their next meal to be sent to their chambers and the basket filled by dawn on the morrow. They were not comfortable staying in the common room. The great room extended over the whole front of the first floor of the Angel inn. It made it difficult to get an overall view of the other guests.

"It was here, in the bay of the beautiful gothic oriel window that Richard the third signed the death warrant on the Duke of Buckingham, 19th of October 1483."

"Finally, a historical anecdote. I was worried you had exhausted the topic."

Darcy smirked, his Elizabeth was something else, beseeching his anecdotes rather than petitioning for him to leave off. Adding her own, on occasions...

Her eyes ha bewitched him but it was the woman behind that he fell in love with. He needed to wed her, sooner rather than later for his own sanity. If the Campbells had managed to employ his cousin's tracking, planning and reconnoitring, their wit might be left wanting. He needed to come up with a plan his cousin could never believe him embarking on, something he had sworn he would never do...

"Elizabeth?" Darcy addressed his betrothed with trepidation. "I wonder what your thoughts are on travelling on the stagecoach?"

"It is fast and uncomfortable, I would imagine. Is there anything wrong with the carriage?"

"No, I am just worried about the speed we are currently travelling at. The horses are tired and it is too late to order new horses at every stop, it would slow us down further to await answers. It is fifty-five miles to Doncaster where they may or may not turn west, off the Great North Road. If they want better roads, they might want to continue another fifteen miles to Pontefract, south of Leeds. It might be another seventy miles before they turn off. We know the Gardiners are close on our heels with Mr Collins. I am not too worried about them. We are three stout men against two men and a lady but there was a fourth person among them that I have not mentioned to you..."

"Why ever not?" The anger in her voice was unmistakable.

"I have tried to come up with an excuse for him to accompany them but I have not found one."

"Is it someone you are close to?" The anger in her voice had mellowed into a slight annoyance.

"Yes, my cousin Richard. He is a Colonel in his Majesty's Army and my closest confidant. We grew up more like brothers than cousins, I cannot fathom he has betrayed me for a couple of strangers and our aunt's sycophantic parson. Perhaps he is heavily invested in your uncle's business, I do not know. What I do know is that he is a difficult opponent to have, having been trained in the army and he has fought by the front."

"Do you believe we would stand a better chance on the stagecoach?"

"Yes, because Richard would never look for me on it. We could send James and Euan in our carriage to Pemberley where they could exchange the carriage for the landau and meet us some point in Scotland. Would you like to stop by Eilean Bennet Castle on our way home?"

"Aye, most definitely. I am eager to hear their excuses for divesting themselves of me in such a fashion. Besides, I would like to take Camkirk home with me. He deserves better..."

Darcy readily agreed readily because Elizabeth had just called Pemberley home...

*Information about the Inns from the book: The old Inns of the old England by Charles Harper.

*Inspiration for the gipsies from the Worcestershire Chronicles 22nd march 1890 about the Boswell Gypsy tribe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 Coldstream Bridge Toll Booth**

Darcy had arranged for a maid to aid Elizabeth at The Angel Inn in Grantham. Probably a wise scheme, if he had any thoughts resembling those Elizabeth, had after he aided her with loosening her stays at the inn in Alconbury.

After agreeing to his change of tactics from carriage to stagecoach, the stagecoach leaving at eight in the morning, Elizabeth was up and ready a little earlier than usual. She did not want to forgo breaking her fast before they left and sat by the vanity, waiting for the maid to appear in her shift and robe when she heard the door slam against the wall in the room beside her.

Raised, angry, voices reverberated between the walls. Elizabeth was on her feet in an instant and ran to Mr Darcy's rescue. A fair-haired, barrel-chested man was in Mr Darcy's face, rattling off profanities. He was a few inches shorter but burly looking.

"What in the bloody hell are you thinking?"

"None of your blasted business!"

"The hell it is, little cousin."

"Little? I am five and twenty!"

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam felt a pointed finger tapping him incessantly on his shoulder. He brushed it off, believing his aunt's annoying parson had followed him inside, against his specific orders. Probably had some pointed words to express about his language.

The infuriating nitwit would not be deterred and the colonel whipped around, turning his furious glare at a petit, curly redhead with the most astonishing eyes he had ever seen. Her arms were folded under her chest and her dainty bare foot was tapping on the floor. She was dressed in an oversized robe, fiery curls framed her countenance and covered much of her torso, down to her waist.

"What have we here... Is it your highland fling or has Aphrodite materialised from the Iliad?"

Darcy immediately moved in front of the Undine, shielding her from his cousin.

"Please leave us, Elizabeth."

"Absolutely not!"

Darcy turned towards her, walked her back towards the door and whispered in her ear. "I cannot think straight when you are near."

"Let me do the thinking then." Elizabeth lifted her chin and raised an importune eyebrow. Darcy let his eyes travel down her person but Elizabeth could not be deterred. Groaning, he faced his cousin.

"Why are you here, Richard?"

"To rescue my deranged cousin from making the biggest mistake of his life..."

"I am not in need of rescuing."

"Debatable... I am also here to bring back our aunt's parson's wayward fiancée. Elizabeth MacBennet made a run for it from your home or so I was told by none other than my parents. With the danger of repeating myself, what in the bloody hell are you doing, Darcy? Running away with another man's intended, a Highland lass with no sense of propriety. You will be the laughing stock of the ton, Darcy!"

"Get out!" The fiery redhead had heard enough and was right in front of him, both hands firmly planted on her hips. "I am the daughter of Laird MacBennet of Eilean Bennet Castle. My family goes back more centuries than your caveman brain can count and I obviously know more about propriety than an Earl's son. Uttering profanities in front of a lady... Do you understand me or do I need to spell it for you? Translate into French or Greek? Get out!"

Darcy lay his comforting hands on Elizabeth's shoulders and turned her around to face him. "My cousin may come across as a caveman but he does respond to reason. Let me explain our circumstances to him because I do not think we stand a chance of outrunning him. Your maid is awaiting you in your room, I believe. Come back when you have finished your ablutions and we will formulate a plan on how to proceed."

Colonel Fitzwilliam regarded his cousin intently. The emotion glowing from his eyes was unmistakable, even for a battle-hardened soldier like himself. To his surprise, the fiery Highland lass' anger melted away under his cousin gaze and she relaxed her stance.

"Very well..." She said and quit the room under his cousin's watchful eye.

Darcy offered him a seat at his table and Richard sat down, pensively. The story Darcy related was more unfathomable than any of the novels he, clandestinely, had read.

The siren returned, dressed in a gown he recognised from a painting hanging on the wall of the Pemberley gallery. The hand-painted French silk gown, decorated with leaves and cornflowers, had been one of Lady Anne's favourites. She had chosen it for one of her sit-downs with a painter.

It must have been shortened because Lady Anne had been a tall lady while Miss MacBennet was short. Lady Anne had also been willowy which Miss MacBennet was definitely not. The tight bodice accentuated her tiny waist but her other attributes threatened to spill.

Her wild curls had been pulled loosely on the top of her head. Richard suspected that the maid had not been afforded enough time for an elaborate updo as the lady seemed eager to join her accomplice.

His cousin did not notice though, his eyes fixed on a couple of attributes that turned the lady's countenance fairly exasperated. She snapped her fingers and broke his cousin's spellbound admiration.

The reason for her decades' old garments had been explained by Darcy's account of their actions but he silently wondered if he had other nefarious motives...

Elizabeth approached the gentleman and soldier, standing slightly to Mr Darcy side to show her preference.

"You must see why I doubted your sanity..." Richard seamlessly picked up the conversation where they had left off. "Father related to me the debacle at your dinner party, including your obvious admiration for the lady in question. Even you must admit it is somewhat out of character for you to pursue a lady as opposed to run in the opposite direction... When Mr Collins approached me with proof of a lie uttered from your lips, I felt absolutely certain that you had lost your faculties. Never did it occur to me that you had fallen head over heels in love? I would sooner believe you had taken up drinking or even sniffing arsenic before I had thought you lost to Cupids arrows."

Darcy chuckled, "well, Elizabeth is an accomplished archer..."

Elizabeth snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "Hardly, the target was huge and at a short distance."

Darcy smiled up at his betrothed. His sentiments were easily discerned, the lady held her cards close to her chest though. If not for a slight softening around her eyes, Richard might have thought her indifferent. His cousin's description of having to persuade her into accepting him had sounded a tad implausible to his cynical self.

"Where do we go from here?" Elizabeth inquired, looking Richard directly in the eyes. It was clear she did not trust him.

Darcy clasped her hand, willing her to redirect her beautiful orbs to his and locking them in place.

"I believe we should continue with our original plan and take the stagecoach from here. James and Euan will take the old carriage to Pemberley and Richard will make sure that our pursuers follow after that carriage. If they leave a few hours after we board the stagecoach, we should manage to get a sufficient head start to make it impossible for them to catch up. Richard will detain them in the meantime. It will leave us without protection from any other than ourselves though. I suggest we proceed as Mr and Mrs Williams, it will make it easier for me to protect you if our fellow passengers believe we are married, headed north to visit family. It will be hazardous travel in more ways than one but I do not think we have much choice at this point. We will be on the coach, day and night until we reach the Scottish border. When we are married we can hire a carriage and take on a more leisurely and comfortable journey or proceed to Edinburgh on the stagecoach and have James meet us there. We have approximately two hundred and thirty miles left until we reach Coldstream Bridge Tollbooth. It will take the better part of two days before we arrive. What do you say, Elizabeth? Are you up for the challenge?"

"Always, I am more concerned about you. You are much more accustomed to luxury than I..." Elizabeth raised her hand to his cheek and let her thumb graze his cheekbone. His eyes were shadowed and his chin wore stubble of days old growth.

Sleeping at a busy in was probably much more challenging for he who was used to Pemberley's thick walls and few residents. She, on the other hand, was used to the bustle of a large household.

Darcy snatched her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, making her breath hitch.

"I am in dire need of a shave but otherwise, I am perfectly well, Elizabeth."

Her brows furrowed in contemplation.

"Can we trust the Colonel?"

Darcy grabbed both her hands and looked her deeply in the eyes.

"Yes."

Richard had seen enough, there was obviously a connection of higher power between the two lovers, seemingly communicating without words. He did not understand his cousin but neither was it his place to correct a grown man with his faculties in order. He did not appear to have been taken in by the somewhat unique looks of the Highland beauty.

In fact, she would not be deemed beautiful at all in the highest circles of London society. She did not fit the fashionable form or looks at all with her short curvy stature, red hair and full lips. Although every warm blood male she encountered would disagree, the ladies would be merciless and so would the gossip sheets. He wondered if Darcy had taken all this into consideration when he proposed marriage to the laird's daughter. By the looks of him, he probably had not offered it a thought.

Darcy and Elizabeth changed into their least auspicious attire and boarded the stagecoach without any particular notice. Darcy had packed most of their belongings as a package and sent it by post, well aware that it would arrive simultaneously as they. The ruse was for it to look like they had little but what they were wearing in the world as not to attract pickpockets or footpads.

Two hours later, Richard pointed out the old Darcy carriage with James and Euan on the driver seat in full Darcy livery.

Mr Collins screamed at anybody within hearing range, to harness the horses and get his carriage ready to depart. Luckily, he did not mention why...

The Campbells hurried their packing and Mrs Campbell had the forethought to order their basket filled with victuals but it still took a good twenty minutes before they left the historic hostelry, The Angel Inn, in Grantham.

To gain upon a half-full carriage with a full one was a far stretch which was obvious to anyone except for Mr Collins. He kept yelling for the coachman to hurry up until Mrs Campbell offered him some bread and cheese which muffled the sound to some extent.

The next evening the stagecoach rolled over Coldstream Bridge. Contemporary with the bridge lay the Coldstream Toll Booth, a single-story random rubble with red pantile roof and an inscribed tablet on the lower extension.

Darcy had thought they would have to wait until morning to wed but the maid he encountered shouted into the common room: "Pattie Mudie, you are wanted in the _tother end_."

Two men immediately approached, the elder led them to the small room, closest to the bridge while the other tugged Darcy aside. He pulled a collection of rings from his pocket and offered him the ring of his choice for a certain price. Darcy knew it was a rip-off but in his predicament, sans a token for his bride, he chose to pay what the jeweller asked.

Peter Moody seated himself at the head of the oblong table in the centre of the room, gesturing for Mr Darcy and Elizabeth to follow his lead. Travellers from the stagecoach and the revellers from the common room seemed to believe they had been invited and were milling into the room.

"If you want to flee lass, now is the time. English, have you changed your mind?" The _priest_ asked jovially, moving his deep-set eyes between them. Bride and groom shook their heads. "Very well, we might proceed then. Names?"

"Fitzwilliam Thorne Alexander Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire."

"Elizabeth Inghean Vanora MacBennet of Eilean Bennet Castle, Loch Tay."

"Right, awfully long names, repeat after me..."

As the day withered away, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were married. It was easily done while twilight turned to darkness and the night fell over the Toll Booth. The stagecoach had changed horses and the coachmen had eaten their supper, it was time to leave.

Peter Moody shook Mr Darcy's hand and wished his bride joy and led them to the back room. Elizabeth wondered if there might be a register to sign but the room held only one object, a bed...

Darcy blushed scarlet as the door closed behind them but Elizabeth laughed.

"Oh my, do we have time before the coach leaves?"

"Certainly not!" Darcy grabbed her hand and pulled her to him for a searing kiss before he pulled her out the door, through the cheering crowd and on to the stagecoach for the last leg of their journey. They would reach Edinburgh by the next mourning, where they would wait for their carriage from Pemberley to arrive.

It was dawn when the stagecoach approached Edinburgh. Progressing up High Street, the old town loomed, dominated by the ancient castle from its rocks, bodeful with its thousand years history.

Sufficiently grim to live up to the old Scottish saying: _The clartier, the cosier_.

Characteristic religious inscriptions carved on the lintels over the stone doors on nearly every ancient house might convince the unknowing traveller of fervent piety. It was more than that though... An incantation, a talismanic protection against _auld hornie - _wizards, warlocks, werewolves all those frightful inhabitants of Satan's invisible world, in which the Scots so fervently believed, from laird to peasant.

Had it been two years prior, Darcy would have been reluctant to enter Edinburgh. In 1807, police had replaced the old semi-military Towns Guard, who had been keeping its residents in order rather than protecting them.

The eastern gale blew strong enough to turn over a carriage. Fortunately, the stagecoach was fully loaded and managed to stay on its wheels. Darcy and Elizabeth were cramped inside, in a corner, trying to overlook the lewd comments from their fellow passengers who was strangely enough, also their wedding party. Their all too swift sojourn into the _consummation room_ was frequently mentioned. Offering to turn their backs and cover their ears at the newlyweds was never growing old...

Gloomy history nor ridicule could dampen the fervid anticipation of the groom. The inns was another matter... In the best of the old Edinburgh inn's, the beds well merited the description given of them as _dish-cloths stretched on iron-grid._ Not a place one would bring one's blushing bride.

In New Town, however, the bold James Dun had the audacity to call himself _innkeeper _instead of the old _stabler_ and brought the outlandish word _hotel_ to Edinburgh. 1776 marked the year he begun his hotel-keeping in the flats above John Neale's Haberdashery, built two years prior in 1774, as the first house in New Town. On the most easterly house on Princes Street, displayed a great, gilded sign proclaiming it Dun's Hotel.

The newlyweds alighted the stagecoach for the last time in their life and hailed a couple of young lads to carry their chests up the stairs to their lodgings. James Dun himself greeted his new guests with some misgivings as he took in their outdated apparel. A few gold coins clunked on his desk with the demand of hot bathwater and his best room for at least a week. His misgivings blew away with the upfront payment and Mr Dun was all smiles as he ordered his servants to their tasks. He hardly recognised the couple who emerged sometime later in the afternoon...

Elizabeth soaked in the deliciously warm water, cognisant of the screen who was all that divided her bare self from her husband who had gallantly offered her to avail herself of the bath first. A maid was rinsing the lily of the valley scented soap from her hair and helped her dry off when she rose. Reluctant but inclined to afford her husband at the least, lukewarm waters for his bath.

She sat down by the lit fire as they exchanged places, brushing her hair. The window beyond the screen highlighted the silhouette of her husband's form, still fresh in her mind from her clandestine perspective at the clifftop. The unpleasant thought of baring herself entered her mind. What if he found her freckles off-putting? Covered from head to toe as she was... Unconsciously, she gnawed on her thumb when her husband emerged from behind the screen, dressed in his robe, with bare feet.

Elizabeth let her gaze travel up his person to his predatory eyes. He looked like a hunter ready to strike, she thought it might be best to move first but she seemed to have lost the ability.

A pair of strong arms hauled her to her feet, clutching her to his chest. Not at all intimidated, she entwined her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to meet her tingling lips.

Darcy kissed her softly and reverently despite the passion ignited in his eyes. His hands stroked her back, pulling the sash, holding her robe together, looser by each brush.

The hands trailed down to her bottom and lifted her up. Her limbs clenched around his waist to support herself as her hands moved to his chest, tugging at the robe who was trapped between their bodies. Abandoning the robe, her hands clutched his jaws and he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, liquid warmth pooled at her core as she felt they were moving. Her back hit the mattress, releasing her legs the robe opened up as Darcy hovered over her on all fours.

Her mouth felt bereft as his lips left hers to trail kisses down her neck, creating an entirely new frisson at her core.

The kisses continued along her collarbone, making her wonder if he intended to kiss every freckle she had, postponing the consummation of their union with days... A low rumbled chuckle escaped her lips.

"Ticklish?" Darcy enquired.

"Nooo frecklish," she admitted. Twining her fingers into his hair, pulling him back down. She felt his smile against the skin at the rise of her breast. He let his hand run inside her thigh to her calf, grabbing her ankle as he sat up, lifting her foot to his mouth.

"I love your freckles, especially this one." Darcy left a soft kiss on the top of her foot. "And this one," as he kissed the inside of her calf. Leaving his warm breath trailing up the top of her thigh to her hipbone where another soft kiss was positioned.

Her pert nipples had winded into tight, peaks of vine red knots that caught her husband's attention next.

Her hands travelled onto his back, marvelling at the muscles working as he held himself aloft, suckling her peaks. She wanted to touch more of him and tugged him to her. He fell atop of her with an oomph, striving to rise off her but she would have none of it. A part of him was pressing delightfully at her core, she did not want him to move away and clutched him to her with all her limbs wrapped around his torso. Arching herself for deeper contact, he gave in and attacked her lips while their movements became frantic. All of a sudden, a stinging sensation ruled her senses before it left her with only bliss remaining. A euphoria that grew in proportions until it controlled her body and mind exclusively. Sounds she had never heard emitted from her mouth as Darcy groaned, stiffened and shuddered. Collapsing on top of her while whispering a litany of love declarations.

A couple of hours of sleep revived the couple. Officially married, there was no longer any reason to feign low social status. Darcy had every intention of outfitting his bride with the best Edinburgh could provide.

The textile industry had developed during the second half of the 18th century in Scotland. New materials as linen, cotton, silk muslin and silk gauze appeared on the market eliminating the need for Scottish ladies to go abroad, to London or Paris, to be fashionably attired.

Having the haberdasher below was convenient but setting a seamstress to work was more pressing. A gown could not be made in a day... Luckily, the owner of the haberdashery, Mr Neale, could recommend a seamstress that for a little extra monetary gain, had some time to spare. Elizabeth was measured and the first gown of light printed muslin was selected and accessorised with a silk cloak and matching hat and slippers. The rest could wait until the morrow.

The Darcy's strolled out on Princes Street with a new sensation of unity after their flesh had been united into one.

Stretching their legs were welcomed diversion after having been cooped up in a carriage for days.

Edinburgh saw most of its visitors in theatrical season from January to March but that did not necessarily mean that the streets were abandoned. Earning the appellation _The modern Athens _for its many intellectual philosophers, created a thriving city with many attractions.

The Assembly Rooms on George Street were open for the evening and the heavy-looking, unornamented building amazed the Darcys with its lush ballroom, a tearoom and no less than two cardrooms, upon entering. Mr Darcy paid the entrance fee and offered Elizabeth his hand for a turn about the dancefloor which Elizabeth nearly missed, having her head turned upwards at the very rich lustre lights. Mr Darcy may not excel in the vigorous reels of the Highland but the more sedate Sarabande, he had down to the nines. Leading his lady confidently and elegantly around the ballroom. A half-hour pleasantly spent, had made them thirsty and they approached the refreshment table for some punch.

"Elizabeth," a familiar voice called out.

"Mrs Monro," Elizabeth exclaimed and the ladies greeted each other cordially.

"Mr Darcy, this is my father's sister, Mrs Monro. She is married to Mr Monro Jr, a professor at the medical, anatomical and surgery faculty at Edinburgh University. Mrs Monro, my husband Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire." Pleasantries were exchanged with an invitation to Mrs Monro's oyster cellar, two days hence. Elizabeth fervently hoped that her new silk muslin in deep purple would be finished by then, knowing Mr and Mrs Monro to frequent in highly intellectual and influential society. Having accepted the invitation with delight, even Mr Darcy was looking forward to the evening, the two lovers excused themselves. Entering the dancefloor for the last time of the evening, not because it was the last dance of the evening, rather as a result of their close proximity and intimate touches during the dance, made the Darcys retire in haste to the privacy of their own chamber.

As most honeymooners, the Darcys kept much to their own chamber for the next days. Only to alight for meals and fittings at the seamstress. When the day of Mrs Monro's Oyster Cellar party arrived, they essentially regretted accepting the invitation but since it would be too rude to cancel, they arrived at the arranged time.

The Monro butler escorted them to the cellar where a long table had been arranged with oysters from the famous beds of Firth of Forth and ale aplenty. A cup of punch was thrust into their hands upon arrival with a suggestion to mingle. The eclectic guests were Mr Monro's colleagues from university, writers, painters and even Mrs McIver, the owner of the cookery school in Steven Law's Close. Ambitious, Elizabeth thought to herself but the lady seemed amenable to being pleased rather than judging the fare.

Mr Darcy soon became engrossed in the gentlemen's discussions of the Napoleonic war. The peace had failed and the peninsular war had broken out when the badly prepared fifth coalition, led by Austria, had lost the battle of Wagram in July.

48 Scottish regiments fought in the British forces against France. Everyone knew someone who had fought or was still fighting. Elizabeth's own family of Campbells were heavily represented. The Highlanders, who had previously been thought of as wild and savage, had proven their mettle and bravery, increasing the demand after soldiers hailing from the Highlands.

The meal was announced but there were no table cards. Mr and Mrs Darcy chose to sit together, letting their legs touch and their hands occasionally brush the other's.

Both loved oysters and tucked in on the food and the drink.

After dinner, there was dancing albeit not the formal ballroom dances from the assembly. The reels were wild and boisterous, Darcy refrained from participating but enjoyed watching Elizabeth dance, light-footed and gracefully. Bewitched he strolled the outskirts of the dancers, Elizabeth was well aware of the attention her husband were ladling on her person and sent one of the literary students to recite a song to her husband. Complementary from a secret admirer...

Gie the Lass Her Fairin

O gie the lass her fairin lad,

O gie the lass her fairin.

An something else she'll gie to you.

That's waly worth the wearin;

Syne cowp her ower amang the creels.

When ye hae taen your brandy.

The mair she bangs the less she squeels.

An hey for houghmagandie.

Then gie the lass a fairin, lad.

O gie the lass her fairin.

An she'll gie you a hairy thing.

An o it be na sparin;

But cowp her ower amang the creels.

An bar the door wi baith ye heels.

The mair she bangs the less she squeels.

An hey for houghmagandie.

Elizabeth tried to observe Mr Darcy clandestinely when the song was conveyed. He did not smile nor did his countenance redden. Elizabeth regretted her impulsive act, perhaps he had been insulted or worse... That he thought less of her for knowing the bawdy song.

Quite a few revellers had liquefied enough to recite some verses, among them, were several other of Robert Burns' and some more palatable ones of Walter Scott's. Hopefully, Darcy had not associated the recitation with his wife as he continued conversing with the student as nothing untoward had happened.

Elizabeth was introduced to one of the professors by her aunt, Mrs Monro. James Finlayson requested a dance which she accepted. He was the professor of Logic and Metaphysics and turned out to be a rather quiet dance partner which reminded her of another quiet dance at Eilean Bennet Castle. She contemplated to taunt a few words out of the taciturn man but decided it probably was not worth the bother. When the dance ended, Darcy was nowhere in sight. Professor Finlayson offered to bring her a cup of punch but Elizabeth declined, deciding she had had enough of the robust drink. Instead, she searched for her husband. Strolling the perimeter of the revellers as he had done, just moments before. A young student, not the one she had foisted upon her husband, took her hand and led her to the midst of the dance floor. She was rather miffed, he had not requested a dance and she was not inclined to accept one. Preoccupied as she was with locating her wayward husband.

The young buck asked her to stay and disappeared. She was not one to be told to do anything. Elizabeth turned on her heel to stride off when the sea of people parted and the object of her quest materialized before her eyes. His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight, his mouth was set and the muscles in his jaws were working hard. Elizabeth could not determine if he was angry or merely uncomfortable.

Darcy grabbed Elizabeth's hand and her heart sank to her stomach. He must be angry and was about to haul her back to the hotel with a severe reprimand in mind...

He sank to his knee, lay his free hand over his heart and spoke in his lively, deep baritone voice:

Tae A Thistle

Tae Scots yer mair than just a flower.

Yer a symbol o' great strength an' power.

Wrapped in shades o' purple an' green.

Yer the bonniest flower this land has seen.

Some folk say yer jist a weed.

But we Scots ken yer a mighty breed.

Yer delicate yet strong an' bold.

An' worth mair to us than silver an' gold.

Aye, yer loved by Scottish hearts.

An' yer always wur right fae the start.

Wi' yer purple heads and yer spiny stems.

Yer the richest o' all oor Scottish gems.

The crowd cheered and Mr Darcy smiled brilliantly, revealing a dimple in his cheek. Elizabeth laughed in relief and tugged on Mr Darcy's hand to get him up from the floor but he resisted her attempts of dragging him to his feet.

"It is custom for the bard to get a reward..." His smirk and predatory eyes revealed that he definitely had something risqué in mind but did she dare...

"I believe you are a Sassenach, not a Scotsman, Mr Darcy. Perhaps you should point out the Scottish hearts I have filled with love so that I can reward them..."

"I have Scottish blood, my grandmother was Lady Stonehaven."

"Lowlander..." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose but soon realised that Edinburgh was not the place to show contempt.

Darcy knew exactly when she had decided on her course of action, her eyes betrayed her mischievous mind.

She put her arm gingerly around his shoulder and positioned herself daintily on his knee. He received a swift, chaste kiss on the lips before they strayed along his cheek to his ear where she whispered a few pointed words that made his eyes widen and his jaws slacken...

The Darcys bade their hosts a swiftly goodnight. A short carriage ride later they were back at Dun's Hotel. Darcy held Elizabeth beholden to her suggestive remark, not that she had any intentions of bowing out on her promise to kiss every part of him...

*Aphrodite - the Greek goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, passion and procreation. Modern cinema portrays her with blond hair but in ancient art and tradition, she was a redhead...

*Iliad – ancient Greek epic poem, attributed to Homer about the Trojan War.

*Undine – imaginary elemental being, usually female, associated with water. Although resembling human form they do not have a human soul. To achieve mortality they have to marry a human. The union was not without risk for the man who was fated to die if he was unfaithful... (Wikipedia)

*According to Wikipedia – The Great North Road, in the golden age of coaching between 1815 and 1835, the stagecoach could travel from London to York in 20 hours and from London to Edinburgh in 45 ½ hours. We are a few years earlier in this story, in 1809 so I have added a little time. (The horses could trot in 10-15 miles per hour for 2-3 hours before they were changed.)

*Information on the marriages performed at the Coldstream Toll Booth is from the (border ancestry) website.

*Elizabeth's names Inghean means daughter, Vanora means white wave

*Information on Gretna Green and Coldstream bridge from (Regency history net)

*Clartier means dirtier.

*Edinburgh fashion and leisure from the website (18thc-cities-Edinburgh).

*Gie the Lass Her Fairin from Robert Burns: Merry Muses of Caledonia. Banned for over 100 years, until 1965 in the UK and 1964 in the US.

*Tae a Thistle is attributed to Robert Burns on Pinterest and Facebook but I could not find any proof of that when I looked through the 559 complete works of Robert Burns.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 Eilean Bennet Castle **

A week and a half after Mr and Mrs Darcy arrived in Edinburgh, James and Euan came with the Landau. In it was a surprise...

Colonel Fitzwilliam had ditched his travelling companions for the convenience of a solitary voyage. He came with bad news though, Mr Collins and his entourage had continued to Gretna Green after it became clear that his runaway bride was not at Pemberley. It was what they had expected but he had made his intentions known of proceeding to Eilean Bennet Castle afterwards. The same destination as the newlyweds had planned to visit. The question became if this insight should upend their journey or if it bore no significance. The suave manners of the Colonel did him no favours in Elizabeth's eyes it rather put her on edge. He was utterly wrong if he thought a parson or a couple of relatives could stop her from telling her mother and father exactly what she thought of their deception. It was nevertheless too late for them to marry her off to Mr Collins. She was married and the marriage had been consummated, multiple times...

Her bravado did not fail her before the stone bridge of Eilean Bennet Castle was in sight. Unwelcome images of her father injuring her husband came unbidden to her mind's eye. It would be unfortunate if her otherwise lackadaisical father turned the devoted father when it was least preferred.

Her mother exited the castle first, full of excitement about the illustrious carriage that had entered her courtyard. She was clapping her hands gleefully, ordering servants back and forth for no apparent reason.

Her exclamations amplified as a dashing man in regimentals alighted first, screeching for Lydia to come as hastily as her legs could carry her.

Mr Darcy's exit rendered the lady of the castle, momentarily mute. The dampener lasted until Elizabeth was handed out by her husband. He wrapped her hand around his arm and strode determined towards his new mother.

"Lady MacBennet, may I introduce you to Colonel Fitzwilliam of his Majesty the King's army," he greeted but ambled past her and up the stone steps to the entrance. The lady curtsied to the Colonel before she turned on her heel and followed the newlyweds.

"Thank you, Mr Darcy, for escorting my contrary daughter home. I can imagine the forbearance you must have endured by your gallantry.

Lizzy! What were you thinking? Sending your fiancé on a wild goose chase while you were gallivanting across England? Have you any idea of how I have suffered? My nerves have fluttered and spasms have attacked my heart. I swear one of these days you are going to send me into an early grave. Mark my words, Lizzy...

It was about time you came home.

Mr Collins has arrived, I have just escorted him inside. The wedding will be held as soon as father Kincaid can be fetched. You have quite exhausted my patience, Miss Lizzy. I will tolerate no more dillydallying on this subject."

Darcy stretched his legs in a futile attempt of outpacing the indignant lady, forcing Elizabeth to break out into a half-run beside him to keep up but the matron of Eilean Bennet Castle was surprisingly fit, contrary to her own lamentations.

His goal was the usual haunt of the MacBennet clan, the great hall.

There, he ripped open the door, mainly to escape the constant nagging from the lady of the castle.

The great hall was packed with MacBennets, MacBingleys, Campbells and the dreaded Mr Collins.

Darcy stopped dead in the middle of the room grabbed his wife's waist and kissed her soundly.

The room quieted down with the exception of the outrageous exclamations from Mr Collins, calling for justice. Preferably the hang man's noose for Mr Darcy who clearly had taken the advantage of a feeble female.

Elizabeth could not let such a ridiculous declaration stand unchallenged. As soon as Darcy let her go, she grabbed her husband's countenance with both hands and pulled him back down for a searing kiss that silenced even Mr Collins.

"Thank you, dear, but I believe the second kiss was a bit redundant..."

"Certainly not... He called me feeble!"

Darcy chuckled while he tucked Elizabeth's hand back around his arm.

"Laird MacBennet, I have come to inform you that your daughter Elizabeth and I have married."

"It cannot be legit, she is underage, Laird MacBennet."

"I am well aware of my daughter's age, Mr Collins."

"We were married at the Toll Booth in Coldstream, father," Elizabeth added. "It is, as you know, on the Scottish side of the border. Even Mr Collins must realise that I am older than twelve..."

"But... but, you were supposed to marry Mr Collins, Lizzy. What can be the meaning of this? Laird MacBennet you have to do something. It is not too late for an annulment, they cannot have been married long. Days at the most."

"Days, hours, it does not matter Fiona. Why should I try to get an annulment? I thought you would be pleased with another daughter married... Is it not what you have always wanted? Marrying off a daughter with very little inconvenience to ourselves?

Oh, you are miffed that you were deprived of arranging the wedding celebrations. That may be redeemed, we can have an impromptu celebration as speedily as it can be arranged."

Lady MacBennet had little answer to respond to her husband. She stood wringing her hands, at a loss for words.

"Why? No screeching for ale and food to be prepared, no flowers to be plucked? Are you feeling well, Fiona? I thought you would be pleased."

The laird of the MacBennet clan looked bewildered at his wife who seemed to, miraculously, have lost her ability to speak.

Darcy thought the laird was either a great loss to Drury Lane or something else was amiss...

"I believe Lady MacBennet is disappointed that it is I that have married Elizabeth as your hopes clearly had taken another direction. I admit to some deceit in securing my bride which I am not proud of but to my defence, she did accept my proposal without coercion and if it matters to you, I love her."

"What nonsense is this?" The laird was getting annoyed. "I am sure I have not any finer prospects for my daughters than yourself, Mr Darcy. There was no need for any deceit on my account. You could have managed the feat through regular means, like proposing and asking her father for her hand. It is not complicated."

"It is when the father has signed consent for his daughter to marry someone else, not of her choosing. A fact that cannot be denied since most of us were present when she declined, vehemently."

Laird MacBennet rose from his armchair and walked purposely towards Mr Darcy who stood firm.

"That is a flat out lie. Who do you think you are, coming into my home, accusing me of such nonsense."

"But, papa?"

"Silence, Lizzy! Your husband can speak for himself..."

Another voice spoke up. "I can do better, I have proof with me." Mr Campbell stood up and approach the laird and his new son with a paper in his hand that he offered to the laird. "I know this signature, Laird MacBennet, it is yours."

The laird read through the page with a signature on the bottom, it was definitely his own albeit the rest of the letter was not in his hand.

"Fiona, can you explain how my signature ended up on your letter to your brother because I was certainly unaware that I had signed it. This is the first time I have laid my eyes upon it."

"I do not want to," the lady answered, trying to put up some bluster. Her husband had just spoken to her in a much harsher tone of voice than he usually employed. He occasionally ridiculed her or spoke sarcastically but he was never angry with her, not until today. Incredible eyes followed her from around the table, it was all too much.

"I might have covered it with a bill from the haberdasher but it was in Lizzy's best interest. That girl does not know what is best for herself. Turning down a perfectly decent offer when none others were likely to be had... How could I have known that Mr Darcy wanted her for wife, he called her peasant and ridiculed her hair! Even if he had shown any interest, I could never have pictured Lizzy forgiving him. She held a grudge towards Campbell for ten years, Thomas, ten years!" Lady MacBennet's voice had risen in parallel with her indignation.

"Who is the laird of the MacBennet clan, Lady MacBennet?" The laird spoke in a menacing low tone.

"You are, Laird MacBennet." Lady MacBennet spoke in a soft voice and batted her lashes but the laird was unmoved.

"Never forget that, Lady MacBennet. I, none other, decide who my daughters shall marry or not. If you cannot respect that, I will send you packing in disgrace to live with your brother or sister. Have I made myself clear?"

"Aye, my laird."

"You may retire to your chamber, I am certain you are feeling a little tired..."

"Aye, my laird."

Lady MacBennet lifted her head and strolled up the stairs to do her husband's bidding. Quite at a loss to account for his strange behaviour.

The laird himself invited Mr Darcy to his library for a thorough rendition of the events of the last weeks. Elizabeth made to follow but a hand gesture stopped her in her tracks. There was nothing else to do but stay in the great hall with their many visitors. Fortunately, it was Jane that approached her first.

"Jane! Why are you here? I thought you were still in London..."

"And miss all the drama? I think not... What do you think I thought when you went missing? No one knew where you were, Mr Darcy had left for Rosings with Mr Collins which made no sense as I could see Mr Collins, standing before me."

"I am so sorry, Jane. I wrote you a letter as soon as we arrived in Edinburgh but I dared not write to you any sooner lest the letter had ended up in the wrong hands."

"It is probably waiting for me in London, Lizzy, but we left soon after aunt and uncle."

"What about Mr MacBingley's business?" Elizabeth inquired, she had not thought too much about her sister and new brother in the heat of the moment. Not that they had entered her mind much since, she had been too occupied with her own travails.

"Fret not, dear sister. We will journey back to London and stay for the winter as soon as this little debacle is settled but I could not leave my dear Jane in upheaval over her sister's fate." Charles interjected.

"You are very kind, Mr MacBingley. Thank you for taking such prodigiously good care of my sister."

Elizabeth felt thoroughly chastened, feeling the selfishness in her impromptu actions keenly.

"It all worked out to the best, I believe. Let me see your ring Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth showed Jane the ring Darcy had bought off the jeweller in Coldstream while Lydia thought her sister had gotten enough attention.

"Lizzy, did you bring me a present? I have just turned five and ten..."

Elizabeth had not, but gave her sister three pairs of silk stockings that she had purchased for her own use in Edinburgh. Not mentioning that she had turned nine and ten herself, while she stayed with the Campbells. Her aunt had remembered and they had gone for ices at Gunther's.

Everyone was keen to hear about her adventurous tour along the Great North Road and she relegated their journey, the meeting with the gipsies and their somewhat unconventional wedding. Evenings and shopping in Edinburgh was also added although she left out the recital of verses, that being too personal to repeat.

"Elizabeth," Mr Darcy came into the room. "Your father wants to have a word with you." Elizabeth curtsied to her listeners and followed her husband to the library where her father was waiting.

"I am so sorry, Lizzy. I had no idea of what was going on under my roof. It pains me to think that you immediately believed I would do such a thing..."

"Papa..." Elizabeth turned her compassionate eyes to her father and enfolded his hands in hers.

"No, Lizzy, let me wallow in my guilt a little while longer. That too shall pass and much sooner than it should but I need to know what happened at the Campbells when Mr Darcy was not present. He has given me a thorough narration of everything else and I believe your man to be honest and sincere in his tale. Despite his Sassenach ancestry, I might add."

"Aye, Papa, he is the best man I know. Besides, he has Scottish ancestors. Lady Stonehaven was his grandmother."

Those very words, to no longer be the best man in his daughter's eyes, are probably the last a father wants to hear from his daughter. As it was, they were well deserved and Laird MacBennet swallowed his pride and welcomed his new son with more warmth than he had expected.

"I wonder what hold mama has on aunt Madeline, she seemed to be worried about reprisals from her if she did not comply..."

The threesome fell into deep thought but nothing came to mind by either of them.

"Fetch your aunt, Lizzy. It is time I had a word with her."

Darcy rose to follow but the laird gestured for him to stay and told Elizabeth to come back with her aunt. They deserved to know all.

Madeline Campbell was clearly nervous when she entered the library. Wringing her hands while her eyes flickered, she obviously expected some sort of reprimand. The Laird chose a different approach...

"I would like to know what kind of hold my wife has on you for you to act so entirely out of character?"

"She has threatened to destroy our business with laird MacBingley for years, Laird MacBennet. I have four children and another one on the way. It is the major part of my husband's business and schooling, not to forget dowries are expensive..."

"My wife has quarrelled with Lady MacBingley for the last decade which I am certain you are well aware of. Why you believe she has any kind of influence over laird MacBingley quite escapes me. You are not a foolish woman, Madeline. There is something else beneath this..."

Madeline's eyes flickered to Elizabeth and Darcy, seated together on the settee. A hint might suffice to deter the laird.

"Your daughter Mary does not resemble you nor Fiona."

"No, she does not," the laird replied bewildered. Not at all dissuaded from his query.

"She does have the same disposition as the laird of the MacBingley clan..."

The laird surprised his audience with a light chuckle. "You have never met my sister Magdaley, Mrs Monro now, have you? Mary takes after my family, Madeline, namely my sister. I have no qualms over her paternity, especially with regards to laird MacBingley who did not inherit his father's keep until Mary was a year old. They lived in their townhouse in London until his father passed. I am surprised you did not know this Madeline. Anyway, my wife might be foolish and I have to admit that her lack of understanding is far more dangerous than I could ever have imagined. Her influence in this matter is none existing, you need have no more worries in that respect. Mr Campbell is doing an excellent job. No laird in his right mind would have terminated a lucrative business opportunity for a squabbling female. That would have been settled on the field of honour. Times have changed Madeline, even here in the Highlands. We all need something to live on..."

The laird soon had the entire history out of Madeline who gave a good account of letters and threats over the years. Elizabeth and Darcy left them to it and headed towards the main hall and more well wishes.

Elizabeth finally had a moment to address Camkirk with her proposition.

"Camkirk!" The gentle giant received a fierce hug from his charge.

"Are you happy, lass. Is he treating you well?"

"He is, more than well. He treats me like royalty but that is not why I came to find you. I want you to come with me to Pemberley. I can offer you any position you want from footman to gardener, as long as you come with me. I need you, Camkirk..."

"Nay, you do not. There is another man in your life now, lass. He can look after ye. The Highland is in me blood, I cannot leave."

"I was afraid you would say that... Well, it was worth a try..."

Darcy was eager to bring his bride back to Pemberley's tranquil grounds but he could not very well deny his bride a celebration with her dear family.

Jane and Charles were likely to settle in London, they both enjoyed the hustle and bustle of town. With so many relatives with rural estates, they could have their fill of country living by visiting, rather than purchasing any of their own. Eilean Bennet Castle would be theirs but it was in the distant future, the current laird was a healthy man despite his age.

The Lady of the Castle seemed determined to make up for her prior transgressions to her second eldest daughter by holding an elaborate feast in the honour of her marriage. Meanwhile, she was foisting her middle daughter on the now available Mr Collins who strangely enough had chosen to stay.

Mary was having none of it and Elizabeth arranged for her bookish sister to travel to their aunt in Edinburgh where she could meet like-minded folks. With any luck, the oyster cellars may enliven her most serious sister's disposition. Her father evidently regarded his sister as a grey mouse but she had vivacity enough in her eclectic company in Edinburgh. She was not into insipid conversations of lace but she could hold her own on a variety of subjects from medical science to politics.

Lady MacBennet seemed to think that Mary because she was not the most beautiful nor the most lively should settle for any man but Mary had strength of character. She would rather die a spinster than marrying someone as ridiculous as Mr Collins.

Neighbours far and wide were invited to the festivity while Elizabeth was busy preparing a surprise for her husband. A kilt in the MacBennet colours of grey and black. She was making a small kilt in check tartan of pure wool. Her father preferred the great kilt which was essentially a belted plaid but Elizabeth thought Mr Darcy would prefer something less cumbersome to wear.

The kilt had gotten a new revival after the diskilting act had been repealed in 1782. The lowlanders or Sassenachs did no longer disparage the kilt as the garment of bare-legged barbarians. While the highlanders in a kilt had been referred to as redshanks, they were now celebrated as brave warriors and the kilt was no longer everyday wear but worn at formal events.

Mr Darcy would not walk around bare-legged though, he would have knee-high white stockings leaving only his knees bare. Elizabeth had some apprehensions about the matter but chose to tackle any issues as they went along. She highly anticipated seeing him dressed as a Highlander and walked around wearing a permanent smirk as proof.

Darcy knew Elizabeth was up to something but what was eluding him until the laird's valet entered with his garments for the evening and he noticed there were no breeches...

"Surely not," he whispered to no in particular.

"Compliments from Mrs Darcy, sir. She has made it herself." The valet, proudly, held up the kilt.

Darcy had, as he saw it, two options. He could disappoint his wife or appear ridiculous before all and sundry. After a slight hesitation, he chose the latter.

Fairly certain his cheeks were red before he even ventured out from his chamber, he went in search of his wayward wife who had been hijacked by the other ladies. After the dismal beginning of their courtship, Darcy was loathed to leave his wife out of his sight.

Elizabeth met him at the top of the stairs, wearing a traditional earasaid gown. It had the check tartan skirt, the same as his kilt but her torso was clad in a black, front laced bodice over a white, low-cut shift. The effect was immediate, rationality fled as he took his temptress wife into his arms and kissed her senseless. She must have been similarly affected as she spurred him on rather than deterring him.

A shrill whistle from downstairs brought him out of his stupor and he offered his wife his arm and sauntered down the stairs as nothing was amiss.

They were seated together at the head of the table while the Laird and his wife were seated at the other end of the massive table in the great hall. It was surrounded by other smaller tables to accommodate all their guests.

"A toast," the Laird of Eilean Bennet Castle proposed and stood up from his chair. "As that little display at the top of the stairs just showed us, you married for love, my Lizzy. A great advantage which gives your marriage a distinction between other marriages because it affords you the pleasure of tolerating the flaws of your partner to a much greater extent, than a union of convenience... Slàinte mhath!"

"Slàinte mhath!" Resounded around the table towards the prettily blushing newlyweds.

Lydia grumbled, "nobody kisses me like that. I too, want to be kissed..." Setting up a pout that would have been adorable on a baby but was unattractive in a girl of five and ten.

"I can kiss you," Campbell MacBingley offered with a smirk.

"You would?" Lydia whispered back. "It would be my first kiss, you know."

"Don't be daft, I was here on the midsummer feast, remember. I saw Lizzy drag you out from behind the stable with the young Kincaid lad..."

"I never kissed him but I will kiss you," Lydia submitted and latched onto Campbell's mouth like a leach. He put up a valiant fight but did not stand a chance of avoiding the questionable pleasure.

They caught the attention of the laird while the other guests were occupied with teasing the red-faced bride and groom. Too late he tried to check his wife...

"Lydia! Campbell! Why on earth are you kissing?"

"Hush, Fiona. It is just a prank, try not to draw any attention to them. I will handle this."

"Should I not draw attention to the fact that the MacBingley lad is compromising my daughter, right in front of my eyes?" The lady screeched indignantly, just as there was a lull in the conversation. All eyes turned towards the culprits just as Campbell managed to pull himself away, red-faced with anger.

"Campbell MacBingley, what do you have to say for yourself?" The MacBingley laird had risen from his seat and was equally red in his face as his son.

"Lydia, kissed me, father," Campbell complained.

"You offered," Lydia shrieked in return.

"I was jesting! Besides, I am as good as engaged to another lady. I would never betray her by kissing an inferior child with no beauty."

The slap resonated between the stone walls.

"I am certain not even a trow would have you, who is this imaginary fiancée of yours anyway?"

"Georgiana Darcy!"

"Lizzy, is it true?" Lydia wailed across the table. Elizabeth shrugged, she had never heard of an understanding between the two but neither had she reasons to contradict it. She glanced at her husband who's countenance had turned an alarming shade of red.

"Certainly not!" He exclaimed with a finality that made Campbell sit down and close his mouth.

The MacBennet laird rose tiredly from his seat. "Lydia, Campbell follow me. You too if you please, Laird MacBingley.

Lydia and Campbell trailed behind their fathers, heads hanging. It was not quite the outcome they had imagined when their banter had started.

Half an hour later they emerged from the MacBennet laird's sanctuary as a betrothed couple. A long engagement period had been mutually agreed upon. They were to have a summer wedding in ten months. Campbell was going into training to be a blacksmith. Lydia's uncle, Mr Phillipson needed an apprentice with the notion of retiring when he had been fully trained.

When the meal ended, the party moved to Eilean Bennet Castle's ballroom. The late September evening was balmy and the doors out into the garden were open. Elizabeth and Darcy danced the first obligatory dance together. The second was requested by the laird and Darcy obediently engaged lady MacBennet. On the third set, they switched partners with Jane and Charles before they shared the fourth. Hot and bothered in their warm woollen attire, Darcy suggested a stroll in the garden for a breath of fresh air. Elizabeth seemed relieved and acquiesced. They strolled, arm in arm, away from the revelry in their honour.

"I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam. My family seems to compete over who can behave in the most ridiculous manner. I am grateful you danced with my mother but I sincerely hope she did not importune you too much about the Lydia debacle..."

"Elizabeth..." Darcy looked around and found a deserted wilderness to hide within. "You need not worry about me. I am not a sheltered maiden in need of protection against vice or as in this case, stupidity and a lark gone awry. Pemberley has its own skeletons in the closets... I thought your father handled the matter exceptionally well." It went unsaid that Lady MacBennet had not...

"Do you worry that your father will send away your mother?"

"Nay, he loves her, strange as it sounds, but he does."

"Let us not dwell on what cannot be changed then. I have a more pleasant endeavour in mind."

"Really, I wonder what that could be." Elizabeth slipped away, out of sight and Darcy followed. Behind the bushes was a rock shelf, overlooking Loch Tay with a magnificent view of the mountain Ben Lawers. The sun was setting and the pink and orange were reflected in the water, creating a magical ambience. Elizabeth sat on the rim of the shelf, dangling her feet over the edge. Darcy sat down behind her and pulled her to him with her back against his chest. His arms wrapped securely around her.

"I am not surprised Camkirk had to fish you out of the water on a regular basis. Do you often scamper around on the verge of a thirty-foot drop?"

"Yes, when there is one to be had. I know how to swim. I have heard a lot of praise of the peaks though, you must promise to take me there some time."

"At least there is no lake for you to drown in your heavy woollen skirts although I am not sure if it is better to land in the scree..."

"I would definitely prefer water to scree, the skirts come off easily while I have had bad experiences with digging pebbles out of my skin."

Darcy groaned and let his hands slink to her waistline.

"This skirt?" He whispered in her ear.

"Aye, we Highlanders are more practical than you Sassenachs. We prefer to dress and undress with haste to being fashionable."

"I think you look absolutely breath-taking, quite literally, my love," Darcy whispered, leaving his warm breath trailing down her neck while his fingers brushed the swell of her breast. "I love your creamy skin..."

"And freckles?"

"Yes, a drizzle of sun specks. They remind me of warm summer days."

Elizabeth chuckled lightly. "Are there anything you do not like?"

"Yes, too many layers between my hands on your flawless skin." His hands continued down her bodice and tugged at the tightly bound lacing. Elizabeth sucked in a breath as yearning seized her core. "I want to retire early to feast on your mouth." Darcy turned her head gently towards him and kissed her upturned mouth, softly and reverently. "I want to taste your neck," he trailed kisses down her neck before he lifted her up and put her down on her knees, facing him. "I want to dine on your breasts." Darcy let his tongue outline the contours of the aforementioned globes. "I want you..."

"Please," Elizabeth breaths came in short, sharp gasps. "There is an entrance, behind here..."

"I have worked up an appetite after the vigorous dancing."

"Good, I am starving. I have been admiring these bare knees all evening. Longing to touch them and trail my hands... Upwards." Elizabeth lay her hands in his knees and let her thumbs graze the insides of his thighs while her hands stroked up his legs. The kilt tenting as she drew near.

She was hoisted to her feet and hauled by her hand back to the castle. "Left or right?"

"Left." Elizabeth skipped past him to show him where they could slip inside unnoticed and put her hand over her mouth to hold in the laughter that bubbled up inside her.

She was suddenly pressed up against the stone wall by her husband's frame. "Laughing at me, wife?"

"Perhaps, a little..." His lips descended on hers, his tongue delved into her mouth and took possession of every nook and corner. One hand held her head in place while the other roamed, landing on her bottom which he clutched to tug her closer.

Elizabeth felt her body liquefy and Darcy had to carry her up the servant stairs to their room. Never letting go of her mouth.

They did not make it too the bed before he buried himself deep within her. Setting a frantic pace, up against the door that rattled and squeaked under the pressure.

The newlyweds did no emerge from their chamber until the next morning...

The Laird and his wife waved goodbye to their last guests, standing alone on the front steps of their castle. Their overnight visitors had all retired, some indecently early...

"Good night, Thomas, I will retire now."

"Not yet, Fiona. Accompany me to the library."

"No, I am tired. Whatever you wish to speak to me about can wait until morning."

"It was not a request," the laird growled and wrapped his wife's hand around his arm, to make sure she followed.

"Honestly Thomas..."

"You may all retire," the Laird addressed his servants. " Lady MacBennet and I thank you for your excellent service this evening, you have deserved your rest."

"Thomas, I cannot possibly do without Moira..."

"Then you will have to wear your gown to bed and sleep with your hair elaborately arranged."

Safely inside his library, he let go of her hand and gestured for her to sit by the embers of the hearth.

"Have you any thoughts about this evenings events, Fiona?"

Lady MacBennet huffed. "I know what you are going to say, Thomas... That Lydia is too young but she has bled for two years now, she is old enough to marry."

"She is mature in body but not in mind, Fiona. Have you thought about how many children her poor person will be likely to carry when she is married at five and ten? With twenty-odd childbearing years, she will be exhausted by the time she is thirty. Possibly a mother of ten to fifteen children. There is a reason why I have not hurried our daughters into marriage. The later they marry, the less strain they will have to endure. I want grandchildren as much as you, Fiona, and see the MacBennet clan prosper into the future but that could have been managed with delaying their prospects a few years. Jane and Elizabeth married for love, I take no umbrage with that. Lydia, on the other hand, was forced into a loveless marriage for a peck on the mouth. How many clandestine kisses had you distributed among the Campbell lads before we married. How many of those lads would you have liked to live the rest of your life with?"

"You are too cruel." Lady MacBennet scrunched up a pout that had worked well on her husband before.

"For speaking the truth?" The laird replied, unmoved.

"The incident would have passed unnoticed if you had not shouted it out for all to hear. As a result, your favourite daughter will be married to a man she does not love. A man, I might add, who feels nothing but contempt in return. A man of no profession, no income to sustain a wife."

"Surely you can do something for him, Thomas?"

"I can and I have. I spoke with Mr Phillipson and he has agreed to take him in and teach him the craft. Campbell will leave with him, the day after tomorrow."

"A blacksmith! Laird MacBingley would never agree to it!"

"He already has. Campbell did not do well at the University in Edinburgh, neither has he any knack for business. The laird was quite relieved of finding his son an occupation. If he can make a living of it, remains to be seen. I wonder at how well you know Laird MacBingley to claim to know his thoughts?"

"Do not be daft, Thomas. It was a natural assumption."

"Yet you have boasted of knowing him intimately to your sister. Claiming a familial bond prior to Charles's and Jane's wedding?"

The lady of the castle gaped at her husband, calling her out.

"Madeline told me, Fiona. Do not worry, I did not believe it but why did you feel the need to tell such lies? I do not understand why, nor why you are so desperate to marry off our daughters at such a young age. It is nonsensical!"

"It is not! By marrying early, she stands a much better chance of providing her husband with a son!" The lady had worked herself into a hysteria but at least the laird had been given insight to her reason.

He gathered his sobbing wife into his arms, whispering soothing words into her ear. She quieted down after a while and he deemed it necessary to address the other matter but first, he needed to clear up a misunderstanding.

"I do not lament the fact that you gave me no sons, Fiona. I am perfectly happy with our lovely daughters."

"But you have no laird to follow in your footsteps..."

"I do! Charles is a fine young man. A little too amiable perhaps but a fine businessman. I am confident he will prosper and bring Eilean Bennet Castle safely into the new era. Change is coming whether we like it or not. Charles is the right man for the job, I am absolutely certain of this. I choose to look at it this way... If we had had our son, Jane would have been deprived of her birthright. She is the firstborn, Eilean Bennet Castle should be hers."

Lady MacBennet had calmed completely in his arms, it was time...

"What I cannot fathom is why you lied to Madeline about the paternity of Mary. I have no doubt she and all our daughters are mine. How could you spin such an appalling falsehood?"

Lady MacBennet's breathing hitched and he was certain she would set off crying again but instead, she drew a fortifying breath.

"It is stupid really. Madeline droned on one night about how different Mary was from our other daughters. That she did not resemble any of us, being so bookish, reading all the time."

"You could accuse me of the same, even Lizzy is an avid reader..."

"But Mary is so dreich, she has not a lively bone in her body. Like Laird MacBingley, he is the dullest man I know. I mentioned the comparison to Madeline and she devoured it and misunderstood. It made me feel interesting for once and I did not correct her misconception. It only grew in proportions after that. I discovered that I could use it as leverage and it was too tempting to have some influence. It all got out of hand and made it impossible to rectify without proving I am utterly stupid. I know I am a glaikit, I just do not want other people to know..."

"I understand, strangely enough, I do but that does not mean that this will have no consequences for you. I, myself are much to blame. I acknowledge that but I have come up with a solution that I believe is in the best interest of our daughters who has the misfortune of being saddled with such parents as us.

Jane and Lizzy, I have no say in, they are happy with their husband's, perhaps even to an excess." The laird chuckled at the display of his second eldest daughter. He hoped Mr Darcy had strength of character or she would have him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all. His little force of nature was not so little anymore...

"I have written to Mrs Monro to take Mary under her wings. She never had any children of her own and she might have been accused of being as dreich as MacBingley but according to Lizzy, she has changed. I have heard oyster cellars are all the rage now. She might even bring some liveliness to Mary...

Lydia will go to the MacBingley keep and be trained for her role as a blacksmith's wife. She needs to learn how to cook and clean... I do not believe you can stand up to her whining which is why I have delegated that unenvious task to Lady MacBingley. She will teach her well, Campbell is her favourite son...

Kitty will go with Jane and Charles to London. She will learn what she needs from Jane and the masters in town. She will have a season when she has proved that she can carry herself as a lady should. I have faith in Kitty rising to the occasion when she is removed from her accomplice, Lydia. Those two can only benefit from a separation. Lizzy has agreed to relieve Jane occasionally of Kitty and bring her to Pemberley. There she will have Georgiana as a role model, a vast improvement to Lydia as Kitty will follow whomever she is near."

"Who will keep me company, Thomas?"

"I will, Fiona."

In another part of the house, the Campbells were having a similar discussion although the repercussions would be less severe.

Mrs Campbell learned the impediments of listening to gossip and Mr Campbell learned to trust his wife with relating the true numbers of their solvency.

*Info about the history of kilts from (lochcarron) website in the UK.

*Earasaid – the female version of a kilt.

*Slàinte mhath, Scottish toast pronounced _slang var_.

*Trow is malignant or mischievous fairy or spirit in folklore from the Orkney and Shetland Islands. Comparable to the Scandinavian trolls.

* Dreich – dull, bleak, miserable

*Glaikit – foolish, not very bright


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 Epilogue **

_Scottish blessing: With These Hands I Give You My Heart and Crown it With My Love._

The morning passed with the residents of Eilean Bennet Castle blissfully unawares. Sheepishly, they emerged from their chambers long after the sun had reached its highest in the sky.

It was the day after, in more ways than one. Many farewells were being had, some for a very long time, even years.

Two brides would learn that with husband's came responsibilities who would occupy much of their time. Leaving their childhood's home more of a distant memory than a part of their lives.

Mary would find kindred spirits in Edinburgh that her own family could not provide. She eventually married a professor in Divinity and Ecclesiastical History, Hugh Meiklejohn. Significantly older and probably wiser but a marriage of true minds it was.

Lydia found purpose under Lady MacBingley's strict tutelage. She loved to cook and both her husband's and her own waistline, suffered for it.

Campbell became a blacksmith. As it turned out, he had an eye for pretty ornaments and there turned out to be a market, even for that.

Their marriage worked out, kind of... Both loved Lydia's food and both loved Campbell's income. Otherwise, they found most of there pleasure apart and in the male part of the population...

Departure, when you know the separation will be of long duration, is difficult. When it meant parting with all five daughters at once, it was nigh on unbearable.

Lady MacBennet sobbed on the stairs of her castle while one daughter after another entered a carriage and drove off. A comforting arm lay on her shoulders, as much for solacing as for restraining the distraught lady.

A small consolation was held in an invitation to visit Pemberley for Christmas if the weather permitted.

Colonel Fitzwilliam travelled with the Darcys in their carriage, shifting between sitting within and riding Kelpie, her foal trotting behind. Kitty was seated with the MacBingleys. They ventured south together as two carriages were safer than one to discourage highwaymen from attacking.

The MacBingleys were to stay a couple of days at Pemberley to introduce it to Kitty. The colonel would switch conveyance and go to London with MacBingley.

Christmas of 1809 became a lively affair where the Darcys invited both families for the festive season.

It went much as one would expect, trying to emerge two families with so little in common.

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam swore, afterwards, that the experience would never be repeated. Lady Catherine was never invited back to Pemberley neither was Campbell MacBingley...

**Summer 1810**

The sun had ducked behind the hill, making it bearable to take a stroll around the garden. Elizabeth had another location in mind when she left through the French doors with her husband.

Georgiana was playing the pianoforte in the music room, unfazed by the heat. Adding a soft tune to their stroll.

She had come home for good this time. Never really settling at the seminary she had attended. Too shy and reserved to make friends in such a large crowd of girls.

Darcy had suggested they set her up in London with a companion so that she could attend the masters in town but Elizabeth had ignored this notion. She had found a music master willing to come to Pemberley and ordered masters in various other topics to come to their house when they were in town. Which was what Darcy had preferred in the first place but had not wanted to impose upon his wife. He should have known that a lady with four sisters did not mind female company but he was new to being a husband and had much to learn about the female mind.

"Can we walk down to the river?"

"That depends, are contemplating taking a swim?"

"It is so unbearably hot, Fitzwilliam. I am practically boiling up. Soon I will be nothing but a puddle at your feet."

"Absolutely and irrevocably, out of the question," Darcy spoke with a firm voice with a finality that would have deterred Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Please, just a stroll then. We might get a slight draft from the river, at the very least?" Elizabeth utilised her strongest weapon of persuasion, her eyes. Looking pleadingly at her overbearing husband who pretended to be unmoved.

"I do not trust you, Elizabeth..."

Elizabeth clutched her heart with both hands and gasped. "Ouch, that hurt. One would think after almost a year of marriage you would have gotten a little more faith in me..." Her voice trembled and her eyes watered.

Darcy enfolded her in his arms. "Please, Elizabeth, do not cry. I cannot bear it when you cry... Had I known you were such a watering pot I would..." Elizabeth stiffened in his arms and rudely interrupted him.

"You would have what? Not married me?"

Darcy stroked her back, solicitously. "No, I would have..." Again he was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

"What? Put a muffle over my mouth and blindfolded my eyes, is that it?"

"No, will you let me finish my sentence? I cannot think when you are distraught, angry or near... I was trying to be funny, I think. You know, to lighten the mood."

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Mhm..."

"I am hot..."

"Oh, pardon me, madam..." Darcy let go of his fierce hold around his wife and they continued their stroll in a direction he was unaware. Occupied as he was with trying to remember what his punch line had been, it had quite escaped him.

"You should not try to be funny, Fitzwilliam. Look what trouble it landed you in, last year at the midsummer feast."

"I thought it worked out rather well, it got me a wife in the end."

"I would have married you that evening if you had not insulted me."

"I know you are just trying to distract me from the direction you are pulling me along in but you have wetted my curiosity. Explain yourself!"

"The first time I saw you was at the midsummer feast, roaming the outskirts of the dancers. Charles had just winked at you and you were wearing a soft smile on your lips. I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Tall, handsome and mysterious. I noticed which direction you took and purposely chose the other way around in hope of meeting you somewhere and I did I suppose. It did not unfold quite like I had imagined, as I walked towards you."

Darcy tightened his grip on her hand. "I wish I had known..." Floating images of wishes and what-ifs occupied his mind until they had reached the pool by the waterfall.

Elizabeth released his arm and sat down on a boulder, removing her slippers and stockings.

"It really is not safe, Elizabeth. The stones are slippery and you might take a fall and injure yourself. Even wading in the shallows can be treacherous."

Elizabeth paid him no mind and pulled off her light summer gown, leaving her in a gauzy shift that left little to the imagination.

Darcy growled and muttered under his breath as he flopped down on the boulder Elizabeth had just vacated and meticulously removed his shoes and stockings. When he looked up after folding his stockings neatly and putting them on top of his shoes, Elizabeth was waist-deep in the water with not a stitch on her body.

"Elizabeth! What if somebody comes along?"

"It did not deter you and your gentlemen friends last year..."

"You were there?"

"I was, on the top of the cliff right there. I believe it was the first time I saw your magnificent... bare... physic..."

Darcy groaned and lay his hands over his eyes. "I was not alone, did you see anyone else?"

"I had eyes only for you, darling. Come along, do not be shy. Shed those fashionable garments and join me. It is heavenly! Cold and refreshing, I am so glad we did this."

Darcy heard a splash of water and removed his hand from his eyes, ready to jump in the water, tailored suit or not.

Elizabeth was not in any form of jeopardy. Drifting on her back in the frisky water, her fiery red locks floating like a halo around her beautiful countenance.

"You look like a beaver, I mean otter or whale or something..."

"It better be something..."

"All I can see is your belly."

"Trying to be funny again, Mr Darcy?"

Elizabeth flipped in the water and swam with firm strokes towards him.

"Are you coming up? I can see those gorgeous eyes shooting daggers at me."

"Never! It is so lovely to float around, feeling light as a feather. You better lose the rags and join me lest some water creature attacks me while I swim. Although it might just be the baby kicking... Do you have Kelpies here?"

"Do not be ridiculous, Elizabeth. Kelpies do not exist," Darcy grumbled as his, coat, shirt and breaches followed his stockings and shoes.

Elizabeth swam to the shallow water, resting on a submerged rock as she ogled her husband undressing.

As soon as he had finished she turned to flee but Darcy had the long limbs and the agile body. He dived passed her and cut off her escape. His lengthy form abled him to stand where Elizabeth could not. He caught her to him and kissed her passionately.

"Yes, you are certainly lighter in the water... It feels so good to hold you in my arms, Lizzy."

"I love you when you carry me over mountains, through the woods and out of the water."

"I love you when you hold my hand through the soft dales and deep ravines with treacherous rivers to explore."

"I have wondered, William. How did you fall in love with me, how did it all begin?"

"The first moment we met when you turned those beautiful eyes at me, I fell like a ton of bricks..."

**The End**

**Note**: I have another story finished. HEA renamed: May The Rain Fall Softly On Your Fields are done with the first draft and first editing. My continuation of the 2005 movie, a mashup with several other of Jane Austen's works.

It was supposed to be a challenge to myself to write a sweet, romantic and chaste story which I have failed miserably on the last part. It is definitely the most graphic, explicit and detailed smut I have written so far... It is not too late to trim it out though so my question is: Chaste or M rated for my next fic?


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